


Nature vs Nurture

by Pendragyn



Series: Ineffable Bastards Universe [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Angels and Demons Can Choose Their Genitalia (Good Omens), Angels and Demons Have No Inherent Gender (Good Omens), Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, Aziraphale and Crowley Met Before The Fall (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Bad Puns, Bumbling Villains, But They Don't Remember It, Dogs Barking Can't Fly Without Umbrella, F/M, Fluff, Gendered Personas (Good Omens), Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I love these ineffable dorks, Kidnapping, Loose Canon, M/M, Nonbinary Celestials, Other, Threats of Violence, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2020-10-06 12:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20506730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pendragyn/pseuds/Pendragyn
Summary: It's all in the upbringing. But what does an angel or a demon really know about raising a (mostly) human child?This had been marked finished but whoopsie, it's not, anymore. Hopefully finished for real, soon.MORE Big edits in the Caretakers chapters, first parts updated: The Arrival, 02 Feb, Added Ch. 4 - Growing Trust on 25 Feb





	1. Spark

The angel and demon shook hands, agreeing to thwart the great (diabolical) plan together, and in that moment, something shifted.

High above a dark and dormant Garden, far beyond the corporeal plane and well outside of time, a spark of _something_ manifested out of the nothingness and slowly fell towards the distant ground. In the abyssal darkness the fallen spark was like a nova, and as it drifted downward it illuminated a pair of saplings twined together like a caduceus, sheltered within the remains of the Tree. As the spark drew closer the saplings unfurled leaves like wings, and _grew_.


	2. The Agreement

After the handshake, Crowley left in a hurry to set some of their plans into motion, with promises of talking soon and a casual _ciao_ tossed over their shoulder before slipping out of the shop and roaring off down the road. What Aziraphale didn’t see was the demon pulled over a few blocks later, pressing their forehead against the steering wheel of the Bentley and letting out a shuddering sigh of relief that the angel had finally, _finally_, agreed to help them save the world. And wondered, briefly, if God hadn’t been right to kick Crowley out, because how much of a right proper bastard did you have to be to knowingly ask your best friend to do the most dangerous thing they could ever possibly do?

Aziraphale’s first course of action was to make sure the shop door was locked before retreating into the back room to think, away from the demon’s so very temping influence. It didn’t take the angel long to convince themself that it had to be the right thing to do, because otherwise it wouldn’t be hell starting the war, but heaven, and surely heaven didn’t want a _war._ Once that was settled, Aziraphale began to really set their mind to finding the solutions to the multitude of problems their scheme would surely entail. The second course of action was to retrieve the ancient tome of magic they kept safely secured in a secret room on the second floor of the shop and settling it reverently on to the desk to start their research.

After that, the angel and the demon were constantly finding reasons to meet up, mostly to hash out their plans and bounce ideas off of one another, spending more time together in that brief lead up to the rearing of the antichrist than they had in the entire previous century. It was actually a let down to both of them, not that either would or could admit it, when a little over a month before they were due to start thwarting, their plans were as set in place as they were going to get and they had no excuse to spend so much of their time together anymore.

A lonely handful of days passed and Crowley didn’t know what to expect when Aziraphale left them an urgent message to come to the shop at nearly midnight. The bookshop was shut tight when Crowley arrived, but they could see Aziraphale’s blond head bent over their desk so tapped on the door to get the angel’s attention.

Aziraphale jerked upright at the sudden noise, their smile going a little nervous to see Crowley on the other side of the door. _No backing out now._ “Oh good, I wasn’t sure you’d gotten my message.”

“'Course I got it, you said it was important.” Crowley sidled into the shop, waiting for Aziraphale to close and lock the door again before speaking. “So what’s wrong? You’re not thinking of backing out are you?”

“What? No, I am most certainly not!” Aziraphale gave the demon an arch look, but it wilted into concern. “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“I never have second thoughts,” Crowley boasted, and it was true, because to have second thoughts meant actually considering the consequences of what might happen if things go wrong. “Anyway, this is the wrong- er, right thing to do so, yeah.” They flopped onto the couch. “So what’s up?”

“Oh, well, I’ve been doing some thinking.” Aziraphale fidgeted with their ring for a moment before picking up a black velvet box from the desk, one much too big to be for a ring but clearly for something of a precious nature. “This is for you.”

Crowley froze for a moment then slowly reached out and took the box, staring at it in mute shock.

Aziraphale launched into their explanation and turned back to their desk, looking for the other box, missing the stunned expression on Crowley’s face. “I know the Dowlings are installed at a rather large estate but still, there will be times when we might need to avoid being overheard or seen together, so I thought we could use these to always be able to communicate without having to worry about insects-”

“_Bugs_,” Crowley snapped, struggling to pretend they hadn’t, for just a moment, thought that Aziraphale had gotten them a courting gift. They cleared their throat, trying to recover from how their heart had leaped at the idea, and at how it had dropped with disappointment to realize they’d completely, _foolishly_, misread the situation. “Phones get _bugged,_ especially at a diplomat’s house.”

“Bugs, right! So, we can use these to communicate instead! It’s taken me a while to formulate the spells, but I think they’ll suit our purposes nicely.” Aziraphale beamed at Crowley, wilting a little to see the demon glaring down at the box. “I think I chose one you’ll like? We need to develop an attachment to them to enable the enchantment to properly bind them to us. I can get a different one if you don’t like it.”

Crowley came out of their stupor. “Oh, er, you know, gold’s not really my style,” the demon started to say and opened the box, almost dropping it when their heart leapt again. It was a metallic black compact that fit perfectly in Crowley’s palm, embossed with an infinity symbol on the cover that upon closer inspection proved to be a winged serpent chasing its own tail, ouroboros style. A flick of their thumb had the lid open, revealing a mirror on the underside, as well as an ornate compass in the base, done in black with silver and red. If it had been a courting gift, it would have been perfect, and Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, at their hopeful but worried expression and had to swallow hard before they could speak around where their heart had lodged in their throat. “You, uh, you put a lot of thought into this.”

“They had a lot of different styles and we can get a different one if this one won’t suit-”

“No,” said Crowley, surprising Aziraphale. “It’s... it’s perfect.”

Aziraphale sighed in relief and beamed at the demon. “Oh, oh good, I’m so happy to hear it. It took me ages to find the right one and the moment I saw it I couldn’t help but think of you,” they said, blushing when they realized how that sounded, because angels did not have a demon as their best friend and they definitely didn’t spend weeks looking for the perfect gift for a demon. And proper angels most certainly did not find themself daydreaming about exchanging courting gifts with said demon. “I mean, with the serpent and, er... So, you should keep it with you at all times for a full cycle of the moon, and then we’ll trade.”

“Trade, right. So what’s yours look like then?” asked Crowley, carefully closing the lid and slipping it into the pocket on their jacket that happen to lay over their heart.

“Oh, well, here, if you’d like to see.” Aziraphale opened their cream velvet box and offered it to Crowley. Inside was a similarly designed compass, this one of bronze with an embossed rearing gryphon gilded with golden feathers. Inside was another mirror and a compass done in gold, dark bronze and copper.

“It suits you.” And Crowley felt the oddest sensation to know that they’d be carrying with them something that so perfectly embodied the angel after exchanging it for an item of equal measure, because that was also something that those who were courting did. Crowley tried to read the angel’s face for any sign of, well, anything really, but their blue eyes were guileless and Crowley shrugged it off as just an odd coincidence. An odd, heart wrenching, bittersweet coincidence. “Er, so how’d you magic it?”

Aziraphale perked up at the question. “Oh well, it took some experimenting with traditional far-speaking and scrying spells as well as location spells and sympathetic magic. So when you want to use it you’ll trace a pentagram over the gryphon, like this, and speak the trigger words, I’ll write them down for you, and then open the case and look into the mirror. Once they’re properly bound to us they’ll allow us to see and hear one another no matter where we are, well, on this physical plane anyway. I must say I am rather proud of them.”

“But it only works if we both look in the mirror, right?”

“Yes, I’ll feel a slight hum if you’re trying to contact me, and vice versa.” Aziraphale accepted the compass back and slipped it into one of the pockets on their waistcoat. “I, er, I’m sure you’ve things to do but... perhaps I could interest you in a drink before you go?”

Crowley hesitated but didn’t have the strength to resist. “You know, I think you could.”

**∞**

The following day Aziraphale, unwilling to lose the closeness they had regained with Crowley, casually invited them to the park, and the next day to the museum, and then other spots the demon liked to use as meeting places as the week went on. Usually it was under the pretense of wanting to ask the demon about something demonic, only to steer the conversation off onto a tangent at the soonest possible moment. It was slightly nerve-wracking to the angel when it became clear by the end of the week that the demon had seen through their ruse and was just indulging them. So they made themself not call Crowley when the next morning came around, and they hated it but it was probably for the best to put some distance between them.

But Crowley, understanding they had somehow scared the angel off with their teasing, decided to just show up at the shop anyway to invite them out. Crowley waited until the angel was alone to saunter inside, ignoring the flutter their heart gave when Aziraphale gave them a pleased smile of greeting.

“Crowley! Oh, uh, I didn’t expect you-”

“Oh, well, I owe you,” said Crowley offhandedly, watching Aziraphale sidelong. “Did you think I wouldn’t realize what was going on? What you were doing?”

Aziraphale gulped and stared at Crowley in shock. They’d been so careful, doing their best to hide their traitorous _dangerous_ feelings. Now they would have to endure the humiliation of Crowley rebuffing them, of seeing their best friend smirk and laugh at the idea that they’d let themself believe an angel and a demon- They began to pull on their power to cover the lie they were going to have to tell but they knew it wouldn’t work if Crowley had really figured it all out. “I, I, uh, I don’t-”

“Angel,” Crowley said, intrigued to see the angel was blushing. “It’s so obvious.”

“It is?” _Oh no._

“That you were trying to cheer me up. Since my side’s going to lose. Right?”

A relieved laugh escaped Aziraphale. “Right! Cheer you up, absolutely. Don’t know how I thought I could fool you, you wily serpent you.”

“So where do you want to go?”

“You know, I think I will leave that in your hands. I’m just happy,” their thoughts caught up with their words and they stammered, “happy to not have to, to pretend anymore. Ha, yes, well, we should go if we’re going.” Aziraphale stood, desperate to get out before they said anything else that might give them away.

“Hey, wait.” Crowley paced a little to hide their sudden nerves. “We should practice. In public.”

“Practice?” Aziraphale frowned in confusion and blinked when Crowley shifted their corporeal form and clothing into that of their Nanny Ashtoreth persona. “Oh. Yes, I suppose you’re right. Uh, where are we going? I don’t want to be dressed inappropriately.”

“Oh, the little café, nothing too far,” Crowley murmured, liking the Scottish accent. She rolled her eyes when Aziraphale shifted into Brother Francis, shaking her head at his ridiculous appearance. “Is, all _that_, really necessary angel?”

“Certainly is,” Aziraphale insisted, straightening his odd attire and waving for her to precede him from the shop. He fumbled with the door and his thoughts for a moment but steeled himself and when he turned he offered his arm to Crowley. “Shall we, my dear?”

Crowley stared down at Aziraphale’s arm in surprise, then up into the angel’s eyes. She smiled and gently curled her arm around his. “Certainly, angel.”

They ordered tea, chatting quietly amidst the other customers and then went for a short walk before returning to the shop and their normal shapes with sighs that were only partially relief. Neither could have put a name to what the other part was.

“That went well, I think,” said Aziraphale.

“Yeah. Still, we’ll have to maintain them for longer than an hour.”

“Are, are you suggesting we should practice more?”

Crowley shrugged, relieved to see the angel wasn’t upset by the suggestion. “Only makes sense, right? And if we’re together we can warn each other if we’re slipping.”

“You do have a point,” Aziraphale said slowly.

“We’ll start small and work up to it.”

“Then, I suppose that means... I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?”

“I’ll pick you up at one,” said Crowley, moving towards the door to hide their pleased grin. “G’night angel.”

“Mind how you go.” Aziraphale sat back down at their desk, not even aware they were smiling.

**∞**

By the time a full cycle of the moon had passed, they could maintain their personas without effort or slips, and Aziraphale had invited Crowley over for one last round of drinks before they left for the Dowling’s.

Crowley arrived just as Aziraphale closed up the shop for the last time for the foreseeable future, sprawling on the couch as the angel poured them both glasses of wine. “If we play our cards right, angel, you’ll be back to not selling your books in barely any time at all.”

“I know,” said the angel with a sigh, settling back into their chair and taking a sip of their wine. “I just, I worry. I haven’t been away from the shop since-” Paris. Best to not talk about the past. “For a long time.”

“You’ve got this place magicked up don’t you? Like the ones you taught me for the flat?”

“Actually, no, not nearly as much as I would like.” Aziraphale let out another heavy sigh. “There’s always a chance someone from upstairs could pop in while I’m out and snoop around, and they’re about as subtle as, well, an archangel. And this is a very busy area and if the humans should notice anything odd, well, I don’t have to tell you about the nasty spells that can capture angels as well as demons.” They took a bigger drink from their glass. “Thankfully there’s some, uh, residual magic you’ll recall, from before I opened the shop, but that’s on file you see. I’ve had to be very discreet with any new enchantments I create.”

“Oh. Well, you paid your neighbors to keep an eye on it, yeah?”

“I did. But they’re only human.”

Crowley grunted noncommittally and took a drink. They considered if they should tell the angel about the spells they’d put over the building back when they’d bought it but quickly decided against it. That would bring up too many uncomfortable questions that Crowley didn’t like to think about. “Well, we’ll have time off, we can always come check on it. And you can, whatsit, scry it, right?”

“Oh, you’re right! Oh, that will help.” Aziraphale favored them with grateful smile. “You really are rather good at this cheering up thing.”

“Nah, nope, demons definitely don’t do cheering up,” Crowley corrected, cursing inwardly at how their heart fluttered every time the angel smiled at them. “Anyway, moon’s up. How, uh-”

“Oh, yes, er...” Aziraphale stood and Crowley followed their example, feeling suddenly nervous as they pulled the compass from their waistcoat pocket and the demon did the same. “No fancy words needed or anything.” They held out their golden compass and Crowley gently exchanged it for the black one. “Right then, you remember how to activate it?”

Crowley smirked, but their eyes were locked on the warm golden compass cradled in their right palm. “Course I do, angel, you made me practice it every day for a week.” And it was basically muscle memory as their thumb made a five-pointed star over the shape of the gryphon and they hissed out the words the angel had drilled into their memory before flicking up the cover.

As close as they were, Aziraphale felt the hum in the black compass almost before Crowley finished speaking the words and quickly traced the shape of the serpent with their left thumb and murmured the words. When they opened the cover and looked into the mirror there was a moment of disorientation as the spells triggered and they found themselves ‘seeing’ a vision in their minds of each other as well as physically seeing one another and they both quickly closed the compasses to stop the strange magical feedback that was beginning to buzz along their non-corporeal wings.

“Hmm, that was unexpected,” said Aziraphale, frowning down at the compass. “Hopefully just an issue with proximity, which I should have taken into account I suppose, but I never meant them to be used when we’re close enough to tou- shake hands.”

“We’ll test them in the morning,” said Crowley, slipping Aziraphale’s compass into their breast pocket and returning to their wine. “I’m sure they’ll work fine, angel.”

“I do hope so, I will be very disappointed if I missed something.” They pulled out their pocket watch and carefully unhooked it from the chain and set it into a drawer on their desk, replacing it with Crowley’s compass and slipping it into their left waistcoat pocket. They patted the pocket twice and picked their wine back up, taking another sip before letting out a sigh. “Now, we do have to speak out loud so there is a possibility of someone overhearing us.”

“Eh, we should figure out some code words,” said Crowley, immediately perking up at the idea, not seeing Aziraphale’s eyeroll. “Well, potato is obviously an archangel.”

The angel almost snorted out their sip of wine. “What? Why?”

“All the eyes.” They grinned when Aziraphale tried to smother their laughter. “So that’s agreed upon.”

“Hmm, so what if someone shows up and we have to go?” Aziraphale asked.

“Oh, easy enough, just mention dogs barking,” Crowley said with a grin. “And if you’re ever stuck and need me to come rescue you, you say ‘dogs barking, can’t fly without umbrella,’ and I’ll know exactly what you mean.”

“What does that even mean?” huffed Aziraphale, scowling at Crowley’s amused grin. “This is more of your cinematographic spy nonsense, isn’t it? What’s his name? Bound?”

“Bond,” the demon snapped, refusing to be deterred by the angel pushing their buttons. “And no, it’s not a Bond thing. C’mon, what’s the phrase? I won’t let you alone until you repeat it.”

Aziraphale let out a put-upon sigh, finally saying, “Dogs barking, can’t fly without umbrella,” when Crowley stared back implacably. And when the demon opened their mouth, that little glint of mischief in their eye, Aziraphale held up a finger and said, “No. Once was enough, thank you very much, I assure you I do not forget what I don’t wish to forget and unfortunately that nonsense is now ingrained upon my memory. Happy?”

“Yeah,” said Crowley smugly. “Alright, that’s settled. I’ll see you in the morning, angel.”

“Good night, Crowley.”


	3. The Caretakers ∞ Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley as Brother Francis and Nanny Ashtoreth step into their roles as Warlock's caretakers.
> 
> (Formerly one chapter, edited/expanded on 02-02-2020)

Nanny Nenna Ashtoreth expected to step into her role with relative ease, only to find resistance from an unexpected quarter; Mrs. Harriet Dowling herself. There had been the interview with both parents that had gone exactly as expected but after she was hired, Harriet had asked Nanny Ashtoreth to join her for tea and had blurted things out in an atypically nervous manner. “I’ve grown used to having Warlock to myself for the last three years,” she said bluntly. “And while I do want help, he’s still my son. What I mean is... I don’t think I’m explaining this very well.”

Nanny Ashtoreth gave her a faint smile, inwardly relieved and pleased. “I think I understand, Mrs. Dowling. Let me reassure you that I am here to support you, not to take your place. Little Warlock will always be your ssson, and you his doting mother, and I’ll just be a faint fond memory one day.”

Harriet let out a relieved sigh. “Oh thank you, Nanny. Are you sure you’re okay with us calling you that too?”

“Oh yes, it keeps things simple. Now, we should discuss Warlock’s daily regimen and how you’d like me to assist you? It would be best if little Warlock becomes used to me as soon as possible. Wouldn’t want the wee lad to have a shock the first time you’re called away.”

Harriet smiled, her nebulous worries eased away by Nenna’s reassurances. “You know, I had a feeling you and I would get along. I’m so glad Nurse recommended you, Nanny.”

“Oh, me too, dear, me too.”

Arriving bright and early on her first day, Nanny Ashtoreth was introduced to the staff and the security team and then Nurse Anne, who was still packing her clothes. Anne had been an initiate of the Chattering Order, and she told Nanny about everything and everyone, watching the new nanny move cautiously around the room, looking under tables and on top of shelves.

Word had certainly gotten around about what had happened to Sister Theresa so Anne kept her questions to herself but in the end Anne couldn’t help but confide, “Warlock is a really good baby. No matter what Mother Superior said, I don’t think he’s really the son of-”

Nenna quickly snapped her fingers, and Anne froze mid-sentence. “Now now. Nothing wrong with needing a little assistance in having a baby,” she murmured, waving her hand and hazing over Anne’s memories of the Chattering Order and any mention of the antichrist. “Thank you for everything, Miss, but I don’t want to make you late for your flight.” She pulled out the airplane tickets she’d bought and snapped her fingers again, waking Anne from her stupor.

Anne blinked and stared at Nanny and the tickets in confusion. “Uh?”

“The lovely vacation the Dowling’s gave you, as thanks for all your hard work the past few years,” Nenna prompted, pressing the tickets into her hand and helping her with her luggage down to the front door. A little chat and a big tip had one of the Dowling’s drivers suddenly remembering he was to take Anne to the airport. Anne was all smiles as Nenna helped her into the car and out of the Dowling’s life, with her life, while also insuring there was no chance of Anne telling the wrong thing to the wrong person.

When the odd black car arrived a little while later, the even odder driver asking for Anne, the guard at the gate just waved them off with an offhanded, “She’s been seen off,” which the Legion took quite literally when they reported back to Hell.

With the nurse seen to, Nenna returned to what was now her room and closed and locked the door and swept the whole room for physical and magical spying devices before she dared to pull out the bronze compass and activate it.

After a moment she received a vision of Brother Francis through the mirror and she had to roll her eyes to see he was completely surrounded by dozens of little birds. “Hello, angel. Seems to be working fine.”

“Oh, good, that’s a relief. Have you met him yet?”

“Not yet. Met his nurse, she told me about the place, I’ll fill you in later. Mrs. Dowling insisted I take some time to settle in first. She doesn’t want me to take her place.”

“Oh, well, but that’s good, right? Less demonic influence and all that?”

“That was my thought as well.” She pursed her lips, trying not to laugh as one of the birds gave Francis’ left sideburns an experimental peck to see if it was edible. “So I see your little friends have turned up.”

Francis gently shooed the bird away and rubbed at the sore spot. “Of course. Ooh, oh, uh dog’s barking.” He gave Nanny an apologetic and slightly amused smile and the vision cut off.

Nenna laughed and put the compass back into her pocket and settled onto the bed for a little nap, confident that things were going to go exactly as planned.

**∞**

“Hello? Mr. Francis?”

Francis carefully returned the compass to his pocket before stepping out from behind the overgrown hedge to smile and wave at Mrs. Dowling. “Hello there. You must be Mrs. Dowling then. Oh, and who’s this?” he asked, frowning when Warlock whimpered and hid his face against his mother’s neck. “Oh dear, I’m sorry.”

“I am, and this is Warlock. He’s a little cranky because his routine is changing,” Harriet admitted, trying to not stare at the new gardener. They’d just had whoever tending the plants and mowing the lawn but then they’d received notice from the city’s historic trust and now they had a real gardener who looked like someone out of a Dickens’ novel. “So you’re an expert at restoring old gardens?” she asked, cringing a little at the inanity of the comment.

Francis smiled but shook his head. “Not exactly, Mrs. Dowling, yer see, I’ve been tending to gardens for a long time, and it’s more a matter of experience than anything. This one, well, it’s been forgotten for a long time, I kin tell. It’ll take time to bring it back, see what’s still alive under all the weeds and dead growth. Might have some heritage roses and such, hidden in here.”

“Oh.” Harriet looked at the old overgrown kitchen garden with new eyes. “Tad and I used to spend time in here before… But then I was on bed rest and he’s gotten so busy. It’s always been overgrown but I’m afraid we let it get worse. I’m sorry,” she said, mostly to Brother Francis but also to the garden, though she felt a little embarrassed to actually say it out loud.

“That’s how life is sometimes,” soothed Francis, frowning worriedly when Warlock kept hiding his face whenever he looked up, clearly afraid of whatever he was sensing. “Would you like to meet some of my little friends?” Francis asked hopefully when he spotted one wary eye peeking out towards him, taking a little bit of seed from his apron and whistling. A couple of little birds eagerly swooped down and landed on his hand.

Warlock gasped in amazement, eyes getting wider and wider as a squirrel popped up and leaped onto Francis’ shoulder, accepting the peanut Francis held up to it.

“Oh, look honey, a hedgehog! I love hedgehogs,” Harriet admitted, crouching down to let Warlock also get a better look. “...and hedgehogs can never be something at all...” she murmured in a singsong voice under her breath, trying to remember where she’d heard the song.

“We should leave some of the gardens wild then, for the little creatures to live in,” said Francis. “Would you like to give the birdies some food?” he asked Warlock, holding out a handful of seed to Harriet.

“Oh yes,” said Harriet, taking some and showing Warlock how to gently throw it on the old paving stones for the gathering birds to peck at. “I think you’ve made a friend for life, Mr. Francis,” Harriet teased when Warlock held out his hands for more.

“Oh, please call me Brother Francis, or just Francis,” he chuckled, giving Warlock a little bit more before holding out his hands to show they were empty. “All done for today. We can feed them again tomorrow.”

“Brother Francis.” Harriet gave in and took a long look, unable to keep from smiling at the rosy hue of his cheeks and the kindness and humor in his eyes. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Oh, that’s a lovely thing to say, Mrs. Dowling,” said Francis, taken by surprise. “Looks like young Mister Warlock is ready for a little nap, hmm?”

Harriet nodded, pushing Warlock’s hair from his face as he drowsily stared at the birds still pecking at the seeds. “Thanks for giving him a little distraction, Brother Francis. See you at dinner?” she asked hopefully, surprising him again.

“Oh, I wouldn’t think to impose, Mrs. Dowling-”

“But, meals were part of your benefits,” she protested, gently swaying back and forth to help Warlock slip into sleep. “Helen, that’s the head chef, is an excellent cook, if that’s what you’re concerned about, and she’d be accommodating of anything kind of restrictions-”

“No, no, that’s not a problem fer me. But, uh, you, you eat with the staff?” he asked in surprise.

Harriet blushed but admitted, “When Tad’s away, yes. Which is more often than not lately. It’s just so wasteful, setting up the dining room for just me and Warlock when the kitchen table is plenty big. The security detail don’t eat with us, but the household staff are always welcome to. A lot of them are exchange students or working for the embassy and they miss foods from home so Helen tries to have some regional dishes a couple times a week. We had a big BBQ for Fourth of July and we do turkey dinners in November and pizza wars-”

Francis couldn’t help but smile at how happy Harriet looked, talking about how happy the staff are and he asked, “Do you miss it? Being in the States?”

Her smile faded a little and she shifted Warlock on her hip. “I do. But this is home now, and has been for almost seven years now. And it’s the only home Warlock has ever known. I wouldn’t want to take him away from that.”

“No, no, of course not. I’ll let you get the lad to sleep, Mrs. Dowling. See you at dinner.” Francis rubbed a hand over his face when they were out of sight. A small knot of worry was settled in his stomach, because he liked Mrs. Dowling and he hadn’t seen that one coming at all.

**∞**

Things did not go as planned for Nenna when she joined Mrs. Dowling in getting Warlock up from his nap. He cried inconsolably when Nanny Ashtoreth came near him, and otherwise just stared at her with wide frightened eyes that dented even the demon’s hardened heart. It was the cause for a lot of concern, because if Warlock couldn’t even tolerate Crowley’s Nanny Ashtoreth persona, the boy would probably cry himself sick if a different demon tried to come in as a replacement. And what would happen to Crowley, it didn’t bear thinking about.

“I really don’t understand it,” worried Harriet, rocking Warlock as he settled down from another crying fit. “He was so good with Nurse Anne...”

“Oh, well, perhaps...” Nenna hesitated for a moment, and used just a hint of power to hide the true nature of her eyes as she pulled off the sunglasses. “Perhaps it’s these that he’s taken a disliking to.”

“Warlock, honey, Nanny isn’t here to hurt you,” Harriet murmured, rocking him and slowly turning so that Nanny was back in his line of sight. “Cross my heart, baby, she can’t hurt you.”

Nenna’s eyes flicked to the back of Harriet’s head in surprise, because there had been the slightest blip of power in her words. “Oh, yesss, your mother speaks true, Warlock. I’m not here to cause you harm.”

The little boy cringed, but stared intently at her for a long time before burying his face in his mother’s shoulder again. Harriet turned back to Nenna with a sheepish smile. “Well, it’s not screaming. I think it’s from his routine changing, with Nurse leaving. He was a lot less cranky when I had him out in the gardens earlier.”

_The angel_, Nenna thought, _soothing savage beasts and a cranky antichrist,_ and quickly suggested, “Perhaps if we take him back out to the garden, he’ll see I’m not all that scary out among the flowers and birds, hmm?”

“He really likes the new gardener and all the little friends he’s brought with him.”

“Oh, to be expected,” said Nenna through teeth gritted in a false smile. “Children are easily wooed by novelty. Perhaps he can teach me his secret.”

Harriet carried Warlock back out to the walled garden where Brother Francis was puttering about with his little cadre of woodland creatures.

“Oh, hello again Mrs. Dowling, and Mister Warlock, up from his nap I see. Lovely afternoon isn’t it?” said Francis, his expression shifting subtly when he saw Nanny Ashtoreth step out from behind Mrs. Dowling, her sunglasses dangling from her fingers. “I haven’t had the honor, madam.”

“Oh, Brother Francis, this is Ms. Ashtoreth, Warlock’s nanny.”

“Please, call me Francis, or Brother Francis. A pleasure.” He gave her a slight stiff bow.

“Likewise,” Nenna said with just a hint of annoyed hiss in her tone. “Nanny, if you like. We thought perhaps Warlock would be more at ease out here in the gardens.” Nenna shook her head to see there were even a few hedgehogs and squirrels in addition to the little mixed flock of twittering birds who would fly right up and land on him. “Distracted at least.”

“It’s the strangest thing,” said Harriet, setting Warlock down on the blanket Nenna spread on the grass, along with a sippy cup and couple toys to keep him occupied. “He just started crying when Nanny came into the room and it took ages for him to settle.”

“Oh, poor mite,” said Francis, going down on one knee next to Warlock, who stared up at him, and the little birds on his hat, adoringly. “Did you have a start, my boy? Sometimes new things are afrightening, hmm?”

Nenna twirled her sunglasses and one of the staff miraculously popped up to ask Harriet to see to something inside, which she reluctantly did after repeated reassurances from both Brother Francis and Nanny Ashtoreth that Warlock would be fine with them. When she was out of sight Nenna magicked clean the little forgotten table and two chairs mostly hidden by the hedge and sat with a huff, shoving her sunglasses back on. “He hates me.”

“He’s afraid of you,” Francis corrected, spreading some seed nearby before pushing back to his feet and taking the other chair, both of them watching Warlock watch the twittering birds and scampering critters. “He was afraid of me too.”

Nenna turned to stare at the angel in surprise. “He was? Really?”

Francis sighed and nodded. “It seems his nature makes him a little more sensitive to ours?” he suggested lowly.

“Oh.” She turned back to watch Warlock again. “That makes sense.”

“My little friends helped. Perhaps..?”

Nenna looked away from Warlock to give Francis a quizzical stare, shaking her head when understanding hit. “No. He won’t like them.”

Francis frowned. “Why not? He hasn’t learned to fear or hate them yet.”

Nenna made a face and sighed. “It’s on you if he starts screaming, angel,” she warned, rolling her eyes at Francis’ smug little smile. It only took a little power to bring the snake out from under the hedge, which caught Warlock’s attention when the squirrels scampered away, chittering an alarm. Nenna put her hand down and let the snake coil around her arm, all under Warlock’s wary but curious eye. “This is just a grass snake, she won’t bother you. Eats lots of little vermin.” She let the snake slither back under the hedge after a little while, getting an encouraging nod from Francis when Warlock looked up at her and made an imperative noise and made a gesture.

Next hopped out a couple of frogs and a large toad, which garnered a happy gasp from Warlock. “Sister frog and brother toad,” said Francis, who cringed a little when the toad ate one of the slugs. “They won’t hurt you either.”

And last came a small flock of raucous magpies. The seven birds gleefully chased off the other birds, eating all the food Francis had scattered for the critters and eating some of the critters too. Nenna gave Francis a small smirking smile when he huffed at her. “I could have tried for ravens. Too early yet for owls, not that they’re fond of the city.”

Warlock made another imperative noise, looking between Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis and putting out a hand and wiggling his fingers. “Ooh, uh.” They exchanged a speaking look and finally a big black cat sauntered regally into the garden and flopped down next to Warlock, who cooed happily and started petting the loudly purring cat.

“Well, that’s that,” said Francis, looking sidelong at Nenna. “I think you’ve convinced him.”

Nenna smirked but her thoughts were on Mrs. Dowling and the odd little blip of power she’d felt. “Angel, can non-magical humans do magic?”

Francis frowned as he considered. “Well, there are some who wouldn’t say so, but it depends on what you mean by magic.” When Nenna explained he nodded thoughtfully. “Oh. She’s laid a geas on you.”

“She wot now?” Nenna swore under her breath when he explained but shrugged it away. “Any way to undo it?”

“Generally, no. But nothing will come of it, right?” said Francis, looking up at Nenna. Warlock had dozed off with his head pillowed on the cat’s flank.

“Right,” said Nenna, and hoped it didn’t turn out to be a lie.


	4. The Caretakers ∞ Growing Trust

Nanny Ashtoreth wearily retreated to her room for the night. She had only been working for a few days but she was finding that by the time Warlock went to sleep at night, she was worn thin, which was to be expected, having not yet become accustomed to dealing with a rambunctious three year old - but tired of people, of having to be careful of every word and action.

There were almost certainly more human agents of Hell among the staff, though she hadn't yet been able to sniff them out, which meant that she didn’t dare risk letting her guard down around any of them. She certainly couldn’t let her guard down with either of the Dowling's, not that she’d seen much of Mr. Dowling since officially starting, as he was off doing whatever it was he did. And while Mrs. Dowling, Harriet, was quite personable and surprisingly welcoming, Nenna had so far managed to ignore or gently rebuff all of her friendly overtures. She was running out of excuses though, and eventually it would be a cause for concern that the allegedly experienced nanny was so exhausted as to be going to bed almost right after her charge.

And isolating herself in her room wasn’t doing her any good, loathe as Nenna was to admit it. Trapped, no distractions, just alone with her thoughts, dwelling on everything as sleep refused to come. There was a lot of everything to dwell on in the darkness. Like if word got downstairs that Crowley had lied about finding a human agent to guide the antichrist. Or if someone figured out who Brother Francis was and made the connection- Nenna shivered and stood to pace the room, trying to shake off the chill just the thought had sent down her spine.

Something outside her window caught her eye and she realized it was Az- Brother Francis, puttering about in the very neglected antique walled garden that was his excuse for being on the property. _What in the world is he doing? It’s got to be almost too dark for him to see out there, _she thought, glad of the distraction, watching curiously as he shuffled around with a clear purpose in mind. It was too far for her to make out in the encroaching twilight what it was he was doing but every once in a while he’d throw a look up towards the house and Nenna would duck aside, not wanting to be caught doing- Well, nothing really, no law against looking out the window, was there?

She let out a frustrated sigh at herself and almost walked away from the window only to realize he had spotted her and was twisting his hands together in the same manner as when the angel wasn’t hiding behind a persona, the one habit they just couldn’t seem to shake. She hadn’t had the heart to nag about it while they were practicing, not when she had so many of her own habits to suppress. The whole ‘act like a lady’ thing was complete and utter bollocks and it had taken a lot of gentle and not-so-gentle reminders before Crowley had gotten the hang of it.

They stared at one another for a long moment before Nenna thought, _Bugger this for a lark,_ and turned away from the window.

**∞**

Francis couldn’t stop the sad sigh that escaped when Nanny Ashtoreth turned away and the light went out in the window. _It was a foolish idea anyway,_ he thought, considering the anti-spying spells he’d set around the little garden, ones he’d used so often over the millennia they were second nature to cast. _We’ve been spending too much time together anyway. _He looked at the old mugs he’d taken from the cottage, and thermos full of hot tea he’d asked the kitchen staff for. At first he’d considered inviting her to the cottage but had instantly abandoned the idea. There could be absolutely no hint of impropriety around the nanny. The consequences didn’t bear thinking about. But the garden was visible from the house, granted only from the upper floors but it _was_ visible and he hadn’t done anything to alter that. _Not that it matters-_

Francis started when there was a light knock on the gate, unable to keep himself from smiling to find her on the other side. “Ms. Ashtoreth! Oh, er, do come in, mind the path, it’s rough here-” He waved her inside and closed the gate, gesturing for her to watch before tracing the enchanted sigil on the gate, hidden from everyone but they. “Er, tea?”

Nenna could feel the old familiar protective magic settle over the area and nodded, taking a seat at the little table and accepting a mug, watching Francis sidelong as he settled on the seat beside her and fidgeted with his mug, but didn’t speak. She wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure how she felt, except that seeing the thermos and two battered old mugs waiting on the table had made her eyes sting with the memory of tears. Waspishly, she asked, “Did I intrude on your plans for meeting somebody, Brother Francis?”

Francis ignored the sarcastic tone, telling her honestly, “Plans? No. Hopes, perhaps… and having you here is far from an intrusion, my dear.”

Nenna swallowed down tea and bitter words, knowing the angel didn’t deserve them. She was tempted for a moment to make the tea into something stronger, but she didn’t dare risk it, not when she didn’t know who she could trust. Well, who _else_ she could trust. She shot another look at Francis, who was staring down into his mug, and felt a twinge of guilt and a twinge of annoyance at the twinge of guilt. And a twinge of regret that was more like a stab, because _this_, whatever it was, shouldn’t happen again. “Angel…”

“So give me an update on the boy,” Francis said with feigned jollity, pretending he hadn’t heard the note of warning in her voice.

Nenna blinked at him and an incredulous snort escaped her. “Th-the boy? The boy you also spent most of the day with? That boy? Well, for the very brief time he wasn’t staring at your little friends and babbling, he napped, went potty and had a snack. There might’ve been the start of a plot for world dominion but the nap seems to have derailed it.”

“Oh, lucky us then. That would have disrupted our plans entirely,” said Francis blandly, and his eyes crinkled when a very Crowley-like laugh escaped her and she hastily slapped a hand over her mouth, but some of the tension had been broken. “They can’t hear us.” Francis gestured to the faintly glowing sigil. “Never more than a low garbled murmur. Can’t be scryed either. And the gate won’t unlatch unless we want it to.” He darted a look in her direction and apologetically admitted, “I can’t block people from seeing us, without it being obvious that there’s magic at work.”

Nenna let out a sigh and relaxed back onto the chair. “They can’t sssee in the dark anyway, not without special thingies... goggles.” They sat without speaking for a long while and she let out another heavy sigh, grateful for the angel’s understanding silence. “Have…” She looked away when he turned towards her. “Have you sensed anyone else with, er, the, you know?”

“No, no one with the ‘reek of evil’. Not even the nurse had it.” _Not even you. _But they’d been in each other’s company too long and too often for Crowley to cross Aziraphale’s senses as anything but _friend_. “You said she was a Satanic nun?”

“Yeah, a novice anyway- wait, wot?” Nenna sat up, staring at him in surprise. “No one? At all? You’re sure?”

“Quite. I suppose they could have found a way to hide themselves from me, it’s not infallible you know, but as far as I can sense, they’re all just humans, untouched by either side.”

Nenna leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “Doesn’t change anything really. Even if they won’t tattle to downstairs, got to keep up appearancesss,” she hissed. “_Act like a lady._” She let out a disgusted noise and gulped down her tea, holding out her mug for more.

Francis refilled her mug and his own, opening his mouth and shutting it a few times, wanting to offer advice, to help in some way, but he couldn’t think of anything that she wouldn’t just reject. _With good reason,_ he scolded himself. _Too much time together as it is. But, there is one way that I can help._ “I want you to know you’re welcome to come here whenever you like.” When she didn’t reply he risked a look at her, smiling hopefully. Her glasses were slipped down her nose enough for Francis to see how wide her eyes were. “I can show you how to set the sigil again if you’ve forgotten it, but I hardly ever encounter anyone in here so you’re likely safe enough even without it, since you probably won’t be talking much, out here alone.”

“Most of ‘em don’t even know it’s here,” Nenna finally said, pushing the glasses back up and turning away. “You, er, you sure you don’t mind sharing?”

“No, not at all,” Francis said pleased and relieved. “We’re in this together after all.” They both frowned at that, getting a vague sense of deja vu but unable to place where the memory was from. “Oh, er, I can go-”

“Nah,” said Nenna a little too quickly, letting out a breath when Francis didn’t comment. “Wouldn’t be right. You were here first. At least finish your tea.”

“Well, any time you prefer to be alone, I’m happy to oblige.”

“Sure.” She gave him a sidelong look and asked, “So. Got anything stronger than tea?”

Francis frowned but he pulled out a hip flask and Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Now that you mention it, it happens that I do. Happy to share, if you like?”

She nodded, raising an eyebrow when he opened it and the scent reached her nose. “Broke out the good stuff, eh?” Nenna held out her mug. “Why?”

“Well.” He poured a little into her mug and then into his own. “Warlock tried to eat a slug today and I succeeded in stopping him without having to resort to a miracle or any magic at all for that matter. Feels like quite the victory,” Francis admitted, beaming at her when Nenna let out a raucous laugh, and he let himself pretend, for just a little while, that she was as glad of his company as he was of hers.

“Cheers to that,” said Nenna, tapping her mug against his. She relaxed back into a slouch and rested her elbow on the table and chin on hand, staring sightlessly into the distance. She sipped her drink, surprised by the contentment she felt at giving in to the temptation to spend time with the angel. She darted a look at Francis when he let out a faint sigh and she quickly looked away again and admitted to herself that she would continue to do so, no matter the risk.

**∞**

Warlock quickly grew to trust his very unusual caretakers, and it wasn’t much longer until Mrs. Dowling did as well. It wasn’t just that her intuition had told her they were good; she knew that odd little sense didn’t give her the whole picture. Nor was her trust based on how they interacted with her, their boss. What showed her their truer selves was how they treated and interacted with others, specifically those who weren’t their peers in years or perceived clout, especially when they didn’t know she was there.

It was hearing Nanny Ashtoreth respectfully calling the staff by name and making sure to thank them for whatever they were doing, and encouraging Warlock to do the same. It was how Brother Francis would companionably chat with anyone who crossed his path, charming more than a few of them by teaching them how to lure birds to their hands with a little birdseed and a lot of patience.

It was watching the two of them fit themselves as seamlessly as possible into a household staffed by an odd mix of young Americans and mature locals. They weren’t really part of the household hierarchy, and while Nanny kept herself politely aloof from everyone, Francis made an effort to be friendly towards everyone, making them both neutral parties to the petty squabbles that tended to pop up in large mixed households. They both gained a reputation for fairness and an infallible sense for if someone wasn’t being entirely truthful about a situation.

And to a lesser degree, it was watching them interact with one another. She’d quickly noticed they acted more like long time friends than people who’d just recently met, more so, they acted like a _team _when it came to Warlock. Francis called her ‘dear’ and Nanny called him ‘angel’ and Harriet sometimes caught one watching the other in a way that made her wonder if love at first sight was real, or if it was just what her grandmother had called ‘old souls recognizing one another.’

She wondered what was keeping them from acting on the longing she could sometimes see in their eyes. She assumed it was some stupid social rule she didn’t know and would never understand. Not that she would ever say anything. Her grandmother had taught her to not meddle in affairs of the heart and Harriet had taken that lesson to heart.

There were plenty of social rules Harriet knew she didn’t really get, though she’d learned to pay heed to the ones she’d needed to. But one she really hated was the expectation of distance and aloofness between employer and employee. It made her a little sad, how happily surprised they were to discover she knew their names and birthdays. Granted, it was Benny, her personal assistant who reminded her of dates, but she interacted with these people every day! Why wouldn’t she at least know their names?

Tad hadn’t had any explanation for why it was that way when they’d first started dating, so she had glibly ignored it and continued to ignore it and every other ridiculous unspoken rule that made her feel out of place in her own home. She knew that her status as Tad’s wife and as an American would be excuse enough for anything that came across as odd.

Such as being friendly with the nanny and the gardener.

Harriet thought it was adorable that Warlock didn’t just want time with Nanny, whom he adored, he wanted Brother Francis too, and the gardener was amazingly generous with his time considering babysitting was not part of his job at all. Harriet had at first tried to dissuade Warlock from bothering Brother Francis while he was working in the kitchen garden, but Francis had assured her it was a joy to spend time with Warlock and no trouble at all and somehow, in spite of all the time he spent with her and Warlock, and Nanny, the kitchen garden was slowly coming back from the neglected mess it had become.

Their routine grew as Warlock did and Harriet found it easier and easier to do more outside the house on her own without worrying about Warlock, not with knowing he was with Nanny and Francis. They had, in their brief time there, become almost surrogate extended family to her in a way she would never expect Tad to understand. She wasn’t sure she fully understood it herself, but she knew Warlock couldn’t be in better hands than theirs.

Harriet’s trust in them was so strong that after a few months she began joining Tad on his shorter trips away again. But no matter what, Harriet always made sure to talk with Warlock every evening before he went to bed, and got detailed updates from Nanny once he was asleep.

**∞**

Mr. Dowling, by contrast, barely interacted with the boy, though he loved to boast about him to anyone who would listen, detailing all the things they would do together once he was older. Not long after the nanny and gardener joined the staff, Tad, Harriet and Warlock were invited to an informal get-together and Tad found himself talking to an elderly white man who was introduced as Septimus Finks, dean of an elite boarding school for boys.

Once Mr. Finks asked about children, Tad was off and running, so wrapped up in his boasting he didn’t even notice Finks’ stare lingering on Harriet and Warlock when he pointed them out. “You know, Mr. Dowling,” Finks interrupted, trying to school his expression into grandfatherly worry, “there is a marked decrease in the success of gifted children when placed in a so called ‘diverse’ environment. They are often forced to cede their needs to those poor unfortunates who haven’t their talents, doing irreparable harm in the long term.”

Tad blinked at that, and at Mr. Finks’ slightly sinister or possibly constipated expression and put on his diplomat’s smile as he quickly began formulating an exit strategy. “That is certainly something to be worried about in our world today,” he said, waving at an imaginary friend behind Fink’s shoulder. “Do excuse me, Mr. Finks, someone to see to-”

“We can’t trust governments to protect our children,” Mr. Finks insisted, stepping in his way to keep him from making his escape. “You, of all people, should know that, Mr. Dowling. But there are those who can help.” Finks pressed a card into Mr. Dowling’s hand, smiling a little when Tad gave it a brief disinterested glance and slipped it into his pocket, promptly forgetting about it. “We have a right to keep our children and our future safe.”

“Uh, right, right you are Mr. Finks. Excuse me now-”

Finks watched him schmooze his way into another conversation before making a beeline to Harriet, who was sitting alone on a bench, watching Warlock playing with a few other small children. “Mrs. Dowling?”

“Er, yes?” Harriet shielded her eyes and looked up at the voice, her stomach twisting with sudden foreboding when she saw the elderly man staring down at her. She really wished in that moment that she’d taken up Nanny’s offer to come along even though it was her day off. “Hello.”

“I’m Mr. Septimus Finks, dean of the Grasphowl Royal Academy for Boys.” He held out a card to her. “I just had a very interesting discussion with your husband about your plans for your son, Warlock? It’s never too soon to start him on the right path forward, in regards to getting a proper education.”

Harriet stared at him for a long moment before giving him a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and stood up. “Did you? That’s nice. I look forward to hearing all about it from my husband later but I’m afraid I must excuse myself, it’s time for my son’s nap. Good bye.” She turned on her heel when he tried again to give her a card and went to Warlock, making herself stay relaxed although she could feel the man’s eye on her as she had Warlock say goodbye to the other children and went to say goodbye to their hosts before going home.

Mr. Finks let out an annoyed sigh when she was out of sight but consoled himself knowing Mr. Dowling had taken the card, that was all that mattered. By the time the enchantment on the card faded, any doubts the diplomat had about Finks would be gone, replaced with a deep rooted sense of familiarity and trust; the first step to discovering why so much occult power was gathering near the Dowling’s and if their child was the one foretold, or just another dead end.

**∞**

It instantly became habit that Nenna and Francis spent some time out in the kitchen garden after Warlock was asleep, rain or shine. At first Francis would make himself get up and excuse himself after they finished the thermos of tea, even though Nenna never asked him to. She didn’t want him to go, but had no excuse to ask him to stay.

Until the routine was disrupted by a few long days and sleepless nights spent tending Warlock, just a couple days after the little party Harriet had come home early from. Nenna had had a few frantic moments at first, faced with a Warlock who seemed very much like a possessed child from a movie, with a lot of unfortunate fluids flying everywhere. It was a slight relief to discover it was a typical childhood ailment that, although it had the whole house in a tizzy, was _not_ fatal or even that worrisome in most cases.

On the third night, when it finally seemed the storm had passed for little Warlock, Nenna sunk down onto her chair with a sigh that was almost a sob of relief, accepting the spiked tea and gulping it down and holding the mug out for more. “You’re lucky, missing out on this,” Nenna told him as he refilled her mug. “I had no idea someone so little, could contain so much… everything.” She sipped and sneered at Francis’ smothered chuckle. “Oh laugh it up, angel. You didn’t get covered in it.” She shuddered and pulled off her glasses, resting her elbow on the table and rubbing her hand over her face. “Poor kid.”

Francis nodded, feeling guilty because he hadn’t dared to heal the boy when they realized the stomach upset wasn’t just from overindulging in candy. Having him suddenly be well would have drawn far too much attention. “But the doctor said he’s fine, yes? The worst is over?”

“For Warlock, yes. But it’s terribly contagious and a few are already showing symptoms. They’re all going to get sick. I can sense it.” Nenna shuddered, shaking off memories of being surrounded by humans all taken ill by something far worse. “Can’t do a damned thing about it.”

“Oh but, oh. No healing spells,” Francis recalled, looking guiltily away at having forgotten that healing magic was forbidden to demons. The few times the Arrangement had called for a true miracle cure Aziraphale had had to imbue it into something the person could ingest and that Crowley could carry without being harmed, which precluded all forms of holy _water_. Holy _candy_ on the other hand, traveled quite well and barely even registered to Crowley’s senses.

“Yeah.” Nenna sighed heavily and rubbed at her eyes. “At least I can’t catch it. But, shit, I’ll have to pretend to catch it, won’t I?” she realized. “’Snot something people are just immune to. Ugh!” She gestured for the flask and topped off her mug. “Hazard pay isn’t enough.”

Francis finished the last of his tea and tentatively said, “Er, you know… I believe, if you think back, that I still owe you a miracle from, uh-”

There was a brief hesitation. “1977. Helped clean up the shop,” said Nenna lowly, staring unseeing into the darkness, remembering how they’d so very slowly finagled and teased their way back into Aziraphale’s life after they’d handed over the holy water and, with even more caution, began working the angel around to fixing up the shop. Couldn’t help wondering why the angel had let a demon slither back into their life. _Pity, most likely. Look what good it’s done them too, sucked into this-_

Francis’ eyes lit up at the memory. “That’s right! It, it had rather gotten away from me, hadn’t it. You convinced me to try selling normal books, to cover costs, instead of my rare ones. I really do owe you for that.”

She couldn’t help but smile a little at the beaming look Francis gave her and took another sip, wanting to draw out the evening. “How do you plan on that?”

“Oh, well, I should think it’s obvious. I’ll miracle the illness to be mild in those who are already sick, and cure it completely in those who aren’t showing symptoms. Then you won’t be the only one to not get sick. What do you think?”

Nenna almost said no, but the thought of having to feign that kind of sickness for a minimum of three days had her nodding in agreement. “That works.”

“Excellent. Well, I… I’ll leave you to rest, my dear,” said Francis, putting a jolly facade on it as he reluctantly pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll see to it tonight.”

_Stay. _Nenna bit her tongue, refusing to say it, refusing to ask, but she found herself putting her hand on the thermos before he did. “We haven’t finished the tea yet.”

Francis blinked in surprise at the oddly brittle note to her voice, and found himself drawn in to the sad golden eyes gazing up at him. “O-oh? Well, if you don’t mind sharing-”

“’Courssse not. You brought it.” A tiny personal miracle had more fresh hot tea pouring from the thermos into Francis’ mug, and she tipped a tiny bit into her still mostly full mug. “He might be well enough to come out to see you tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” Francis said, clasping the mug in both hands and settling back onto his seat. “I, er, I could watch him, if you’d like to get a little more rest in the morning.” He looked her way. “I’ll ask Harriet of course, but I imagine both of you are feeling a little ragged?”

Nenna pulled her eyes away from his and nodded. “This part of owing me for the shop?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Francis quickly agreed. “Took you quite a while to convince me after all.”

“Right, right, it did, didn’t it.” Nenna slid a look in his direction, catching the end of the relieved sigh Francis let escape. They sat in companionable silence for a while, drinking their tea, lost in thought when Nenna blurted, “Now you’ve had to give it up again.”

Francis blinked at her and recalled what they’d been talking about. “Oh, well, yes, but this endeavor is far more important. As you said, no more earth, no more anything anymore.” He drank the last of his tea and stared down into his mug, frowning at the smattering of tea leaves that looked like a book on fire and quickly poured in more tea to wipe the image away. “You know I’m not one to question-”

“Don’t I know it,” Nenna mumbled under her breath and Francis pretended not to hear.

“-the ineffable plan, but it seems obvious that thwarting _demonic_ plans to bring about the end times is the right thing to do. Otherwise...” Francis almost didn’t finish the thought, would never have even dared think it if it weren’t for the relative safety of their personas and the spells set around the little garden. Still, he glanced upward and the words were barely above a whisper when they came out. “Otherwise, what’s the point of giving humans free will? If humanity was always going to end in destruction, there’s no choice. There’s no justice. No love.”

Nenna stared in open-mouthed shock, quickly turning away when Francis looked in her direction. That was the kind of talk that had gotten Crowley kicked out. “No, right, exactly. I mean, I dunno about those last bits, but I agree.” There was a drawn out silence as they both sipped their tea, eventually broken when Nenna finished her tea and asked, “Any left?”

Francis blinked, pulled from his worried circling thoughts and turned to her in confusion, understanding coming when she pointed her chin towards the thermos. “Oh, I-” Then a deeper understanding struck, that she was asking without asking, for him to stay. He picked up the empty thermos and refilled his mug with the fresh hot tea he’d miracled up. “Yes, quite a lot left actually.” He darted a look in her direction. “Might last us until bed time at this rate?”

Nenna could hear the question in his voice as he refilled her mug. She cradled the warmth in her hands and summoned the little stone bench from the other side of the garden, setting it right where she and Francis could both use it as a foot rest. “That sounds like the perfect end to the last few days,” she murmured, putting her feet up and sipping at the tea.

“Oh, well, I don’t know about _perfect_…” Francis gave her a little smile and pulled a tin of biscuits out of the air, making her laugh. “But as close as we can get, I think.”

**∞**

There were more seemingly chance meetings between Mr. Dowling and Mr. Finks, more conversations that seemed increasingly rational the more Tad considered them and soon Mr. Dowling began to talk with Mr. Finks a few times a week. They never talked long, but Finks always ended their talks by encouraging Tad to have more involvement in Warlock’s upbringing, peppering their conversations with little goads about wanting the boy to grow into a _real_ man, and the dangers of _globalist_ influence. By the time spring was shifting to summer Mr. Dowling started making noises about spending time on his own with Warlock whenever he was home from his frequent travels.

Harriet was happy to see Tad finally showing an interest in Warlock and after a few trial runs with her or Nanny or Francis being on hand nearby, she finally relented on one of the caretakers’ days off. She still gave word to the rest of the staff to keep an eye on Tad and Warlock and to call her or Nanny at her emergency number if anything should go wrong.

Much later on it would be noted how oddly timed Mr. Finks’ calls were, only ever happening when Harriet was out, but Tad thought nothing of it and answered Finks’ call, setting Warlock down in front of the TV in the den.

Warlock came to look forward to the odd afternoons when his father was home. He got to watch all his favorite shows and eat all his favorite snacks while his father talked on the phone in the background. And sometimes, as a treat, they’d go to the park twice in one day and Mr. Finks would help him feed the ducks while his father talked to strange men in dark suits.


	5. The Caretakers ∞ Missteps And Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A failed abduction attempt sets the household on its ear and causes a rift between Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis. Mending it and other things brings back ancient memories of a bond long neglected.

With the warming of the weather, Harriet, Nanny Ashtoreth and Warlock began spending more of their time outside, in the large park-like formal gardens and in the real parks that gave a growing child plenty of room to run and play. Brother Francis should have been at his busiest, and yet, without fail he’d be “About to take a break,” or “Just finished up!” whenever Warlock would ask him to join them.

“I don’t know how you’re doing it,” Harriet told him one warm but cloudy afternoon, looking around the kitchen garden in amazement. What had been a partially-rotted, entirely overgrown mess was well on its way to being a neat little garden again. A few of the raised beds had been fully restored and were actually growing vegetables for the kitchen to use. And there was a little wild section in the corner farthest from the gate, where the hedgehogs and other critters could thrive. “It’s just amazing Brother Francis! I never thought you’d get so much done so fast!”

“Yes,” said Nenna teasingly, “quite miraculous.”

Francis beamed at both of them, catching Warlock before he could tangle himself in the beans, again, swinging the breathlessly giggling boy up into the air. “It just needed a little love, that’s all, Mrs. Dowling. Most things do better with a bit o’ love, I’m thinking.” He set Warlock down, knowing full well what to expect, and caught him again, swinging him a little higher into the air before settling him over his shoulder like a sack of soil. It had become a daily game of Keep Warlock Out Of The Beans. “Why look how much young mister Warlock has grown under yer and Nanny’s loving care. Oh, where’s he gone? Warlock me lad? Oh dearie me, I think the hedge might o’eaten him fer reals this time.”

Warlock was giggling so hard he could barely speak. “Bwother Fwancis!”

“Oh there he be! I thought ye were a sack of me finest topsoil. Good thing ye told me!” He set Warlock down and steered him towards his mother. “Nanny and yer mum would’ve taken the soil to the park instead of you! Do you think the soil would’ve had much fun on the swings?”

More giggles as Warlock pressed his face against Harriet’s leg. “No!”

“No, I don’t think so either.” Francis opened the gate, going through last and latching it shut behind himself. “I’ll just wash up and be right along. Two shakes of a lamb’s tail!”

“We’re going to drive today,” Harriet said, lifting Warlock onto her hip. “I have some errands to run, if you don’t mind?”

“Not a’tall Mrs. Dowling,” Francis said, tugging at his cap before ducking into the house through the kitchen door.

“So, do you know his secret, Nanny?” Harriet asked Nenna, catching the fond smile she was wearing. They started walking around the side of the house towards the converted carriage house where the Dowling’s personal cars were kept. “How he’s managed so much?”

“Oh, I think it’s truly a miracle, dear,” Nenna answered with a smile. “Also, he doesn’t sleep much. Er, never has from what I understand,” she hastily corrected herself when Harriet gave her a look. “Bit of a chatterbox you know. Unless he’s got a plate in front of him.”

Harriet grinned at the faint blush staining Nanny’s cheeks but nodded in agreement as Nanny opened the side door to the carriage house and flipped on the lights when they didn’t turn on automatically. “He really is the sweetest though. Don’t you think?”

“Oh, sssure, I suppose. If you fall for that sort of thing,” Nenna said dismissively, knowing by Harriet’s grin that she was not convinced. All thought of that went out of the demon’s mind however when she caught sight of the trio of men in ski masks rushing towards them. “No!”

Warlock screamed and Harriet wretched free of the one who grabbed her, stumbling back towards the door, but it had automatically shut behind them. Nanny pushed past them, putting herself bodily between them and the men and Harriet flinched at what she thought for a moment was a gunshot but when she turned around, the three men were laid out on the ground and Nanny Ashtoreth was standing over them, her face a mask of pure fury. She had her left hand in the air, like she was about to snap her fingers.

But in the next moment Brother Francis was there with a stream of security guards pouring into the building after him. He and Nenna exchanged a look and she turned away before he came to fuss over Warlock and Harriet, who was staring in confusion at the unconscious men, clinging tightly to Warlock, who was clinging just at tightly to her, too frightened to even cry. “Mrs. Dowling, are you hurt? Is Warlock?”

She blinked owlishly at him when he broke her line of sight to the men, registering his question after a moment, trying to make sense of the impression that Nanny’s eyes had been glowing faintly behind her glasses. “I, I don’t think they touched him. I, uh,” Harriet looked down at her arms, but there wasn’t even a mark from where she’d been grabbed, though it felt like it was going to bruise. “One of them grabbed me but I’m okay. Warlock, baby, did they touch you?” She didn’t try to get him to answer, instead running her hands gently over his limbs, finding nothing obvious. “Not hurt,” she told Francis and Mr. Williams, the head of security, who was standing nearby, quietly barking orders into his radio.

The tall gray-haired man who’d been in charge of security since they’d moved to London answered the question in her eyes. “The police are on their way, Mrs. Dowling. Two of the off-duty guards are unaccounted for, and another was found unconscious and tied up in the back of your vehicle. We’ve called an ambulance for him.” Williams looked over his shoulder to where Nanny Ashtoreth was standing alone, still glowering at the restrained men, who were beginning to wake up from whatever it was she’d done. “Did you see..?”

Harriet shook her head. “No, it’s, I thought I heard a gunshot or something and then they were out.” She looked between Williams and Brother Francis, who was frowning worriedly in Nanny Ashtoreth’s direction. “How did you know?” she asked Francis.

“I heard Warlock scream,” he said, voice shockingly grim. “I hit the panic button on the intercom, as Mr. Williams told us to.” That was a lie of course. What he’d sensed was Nanny calling on her power to send herself and the attackers briefly outside of time, apparently to terrify them into unconsciousness without doing the same to Harriet and Warlock. Knowing she wouldn’t do that on a whim, Francis had magically sent his voice through the whole house, bellowing orders laced with power that had sent the security people scrambling for the carriage house.

They couldn’t imagine he’d done anything beside use the intercom and being told that he’d hit the panic button was enough to have them believing they’d heard the alarm go off even though it hadn’t, and they all later confirmed his story to the police when asked.

When the police asked Nenna what she’d done to incapacitate the attackers, she’d flatly answered, “Kung Fu,” and had turned her glare on them, daring them to comment. None did.

Eventually the police let them go inside and poor Warlock was in desperate need of a nap. Harriet, also feeling the after effects, laid down with him after a brief phone call with Tad in which he’d blustered about bringing in more security but never once offered to come home early from his trip. She wouldn’t have accepted, it wasn’t like he would have been able to stop what had happened, but she couldn’t help but wish that he’d at least thought to offer.

The minute the police were gone Nenna, coldly furious, stormed to the kitchen garden where she knew Francis would be. She pinned Francis to his seat with a look when he would have stood up at her entrance. She set the sigil with a precision she only bothered with when her temper was up, because without that control too much power would pour into the spell and probably discorporate both of them with the backlash.

Not that she wasn’t tempted, as she rounded on Francis, on _Aziraphale,_ who did not meet her eyes as she yanked off her glasses to glower at him. “What the HELL were you thinking!? Do you understand the danger you’ve put me in?”

Francis stiffened at the accusation. “I most certainly did not put you in danger! The kidnappers did that!”

“I had them _handled_!” Nenna snarled, slashing her hand through the air. “But you just had to bring the goons into it! And now the police are directly involved!”

Francis snorted. Voice cold, he said, “Really. You _were_ going to vanish them, weren’t you? Three unconscious masked men mysteriously appearing in front of Scotland Yard certainly wouldn’t have drawn any unwanted attention, nooo. And we know there are magic users among them, some of whom would certainly be able to identify celestial magic.”

She let out a hissing sigh. “I wasn’t going to-”

“And aside from that, how were you going to explain to Harriet what happened to them?" he demanded, dander up. "Wiping her memory wouldn’t stop Warlock from remembering. And then there’s the issue of the drugged security guard in the back of her car. And the two missing ones they found drugged and tied up in the hedge? Hmm?”

She shook her head in answer, lips curled in a silent snarl as she paced, ignoring the little voice of logic that knew he was right. She wouldn’t have been able to cover it up or explain things, hadn’t even considered what would’ve happened if she’d managed to vanished them. She hated it when Aziraphale was right, hated when the angel gave her that prim little superior look and laid out in fine detail just how foolishly she’d gotten it all wrong.

Francis shook his head at her, lips pinched into a frustrated frown, hating how impulsive Crowley always was, how many times they’d impulsively done something just to have it come back and bite them on the bum. One of these times it wasn’t going to be something little, and Aziraphale knew it wouldn’t just be Crowley caught in the backlash. _If they would just use a little sense! _“Oh yes, you had them _handled_. This way the plot is foiled and you’re barely involved at all. You’re being ridiculous about this Cro- ah, Nanny.”

She bared her teeth at his slip up and stalked closer to loom over him. Seeing Aziraphale’s superior expression on Francis’ ridiculous face just fanned the flames of Nenna’s temper higher. “Well, who the hell asked you? You just decided to barge in! Just had to stick your nose in where it wasn’t needed or wanted! I had it handled,” she growled. “Next time, _keep out of it_,” she snarled, bitterly pleased to see the hurt in his eyes as she snapped her glasses back on and stormed out of the garden and up to her room under the cover of her power.

The sense of triumph died about two seconds after she was back in her room, alone and faced with the fact that who she was really angry with, was herself. For letting herself get caught unawares. For letting her guard down. And under the anger, burbled a growing rivulet of fear. Fear of word getting back to downstairs that there’d almost been a kidnapping. “Damn you,” she snarled towards the window, but there was no sign of the angel in the garden, nor any of his little friends.

But also, lurking under her temper towards the angel, was the fear she’d gone too far. She needed their cooperation if the plan was going to have any hope of working. She needed _them_. But that didn’t bear thinking about. There was a crack of thunder overhead and the rain that had been threatening became a downpour, which suited her mood just fine. Hidden by the sound of the storm, she threw off her glasses and yanked off her shoes and threw them too and then threw herself onto the bed and screamed into the pillow until she ran out of breath. It didn’t change the fact that she was going to have to find a way to patch things up with the angel. Eventually. Somehow.

**∞**

It was close to midnight over a week after the abduction attempt when Brother Francis was startled by a sound at the door to his little caretaker’s cottage. He cautiously sent his senses outward, but couldn’t find anything living that might have caused the noise. _Just the rain I suppose. Hope it passes soon. Garden’s a mess as it is, with how cold it’s been this week. And poor Warlock hasn’t been out of doors in as long. Must be driving them to distraction, cooped up like that. Maybe I should offer to watch him for a bit? Give them a break?_

He picked up his book but didn’t open it, instead staring at the embers of the fire, trying to keep his thoughts away from Nanny Ashtoreth, away from Crowley, away from the nagging worry that he’d said the wrong thing and had ruined the lovely camaraderie they’d developed. He hadn’t missed the fact that the weary look had returned and that she’d stopped going out to the garden in the evenings.

When one of the kitchen staff had asked him that first night, if he’d be wanting the thermos, he’d caught Nanny looking his way and he’d said, “Not today. Bit too damp for me.” He’d been trying to convey to her that he wouldn’t intrude, but she’d just turned on her heel and gone upstairs without another glance in his direction. The continuing cold stormy weather was just an excuse to not linger outside, but he was glad of it, because he was sure people would otherwise be commenting on their sudden change of habit, even with the residual excitement of the abduction attempt and the talk of bringing in a different security group.

Another faint sound at the door startled him from his thoughts and he went and opened the door, still unable to sense anyone. “Hello?”

Nenna was relieved to see he had a defensive spell ready to cast, coiled in the palm of his hand. “It’s me. We need to talk.” She stayed hidden within her power, wondering if he’d agree after the cold shoulder she’d given him. At first it had been temper, pure and simple, but that had shifted to regret that first sleepless night, knowing he’d offered up his evenings in the garden, even after what she’d said. Regret had only grown, as she’d watched from her window, night after night, as he retreated from house to cottage after dinner, and the garden gate remained untouched.

He heard her let out a slight relieved breath when he wordlessly stepped aside in invitation. He made a show of grabbing another bit of wood for the fire before stepping back inside and closing the door, ignoring the painful ache over his heart at seeing her standing stiffly in the middle of the room.

It was her first time inside the odd little single-room building and it was like stepping back in time, seeing the age-darkened built-in cabinets and smoke-tinged white-washed walls. There was a tiny modern stove, refrigerator and sink with a heavy old table and matching stools that probably dated from when the cottage had been built, and a somewhat modern door was cut into the wall, for the water closet that had been added on some time in the last century. There were low bookcases near the front door, the tops covered in potted plants and the shelves filled with ledgers and plot books and clippings about how to deal with garden pests. The rest of the space was taken up with a couple of cushy chairs with matching footstools in front of the hearth, a small table set between them, currently burdened with a tea pot, mug and, of course, a book.

Francis dropped the wood on the embers, using the poker to get the wood burning merrily and dusted off his hands while she looked around curiously. “I just made a fresh pot of tea. Would you care for some?” Francis asked, taking his seat again, not waiting for her answer to miracle up her mug and pour some for her, setting it by the other chair. He picked up his own mug and watched her pace as she got her thoughts in order, the same way Crowley always did. “It’s about the boy?” he guessed. “Haven’t seen him except at dinner.”

“Yesss,” Nenna hissed out a sigh, relieved to start with a more neutral topic, and dropped onto the chair, enjoying the heat of the fire. “He’s afraid to leave the house, afraid when we’re out of his sight, afraid of the goons, afraid when he has to go in the car. And he’s had a few nightmares.” She tossed her glasses down on to the table and rubbed at her face before taking a sip of her tea. “We can’t have him being so afraid. If himself decides to check in...” Nenna scowled at the fire, imagining a different kind of fire altogether if word got back to Satan about any of it. _When._ She shivered. Somehow, when she’d gone to report the next day, no one had said anything about the kidnapping, but she knew her luck wouldn’t last forever.

“There isn’t much we can do. It was a bad experience, for everyone,” said Francis, not looking her way. “We can’t make him forget- even if he wasn’t immune, surely Harriet would notice the sudden change.” Nenna’s slight hissing breath told him that he’d just burst her bubble. “It’s not unusual for them to have nightmares after a bad experience though,” he reminded her, pausing when Nanny Ashtoreth turned to pierce him with a look. “What?”

“Do you think himself knows or cares about that? Every other report one of them asks me if he’s murdered anyone yet! The boy’s not even four,” said Nenna bitterly, trying to not think of all the ways things could go pear-shaped. Even more pear-shaped. Would go pear-shaped. “That only leaves us seven years to get this right, or wrong in my case.”

“Oh. Yes. Don’t actually have all that much time, do we, in the grand scheme of things,” said Francis lowly, pulling his eyes away from her profile, the tired circles under her eyes, the sneer he realized was a poor attempt to hide her fear.

“No, not much time at all.” She darted a look his way, taking in the slump of his shoulders, the lack of smiles since… They’d been avoiding one another as much as possible since, well _since_ and she hadn’t wanted to admit how much she’d come to depend on winding down the evenings with Brother Francis out in the kitchen garden. “I can’t exactly tell the boy that most people are nice and don’t want to hurt him while also telling him to mercilessly destroy his foes, can I?”

Brother Francis started to nod the but then froze, expression going distant as a thought caught hold of him, another one of the hints of Aziraphale that could be seen beneath the outlandish persona. “Why can’t you?” Francis asked, smiling faintly when she sneered at him. “My dear, even you must know the phrase, ‘killing them with kindness’? Being nice is a good tactic to get people on your side, because the more people on your side, the easier it is to, to destroy your foes I should imagine? Fear will only get you so far. You need loyal people to keep your position secure, and very few will remain loyal when they’re treated with cruelty.”

“Unless you’ve got a way to hold them against their will,” Nenna said quietly, thinking of their own situations. Francis looked away and absently twisted the ring on his pinky. “But even that will only work for so long.” Her frown faded as she considered. “Yeah, that has potential. But you need to step up your game too, angel. Caring about animals is all well and good but he needs to care about people, and not just about how to use them to get what he wants.”

Francis sighed and admitted, “I’ve noticed that’s what his father does. And with them spending more time with the people Mr. Dowling’s trying to manipulate, he’s not being exposed to anything outside of that world. And it’ll only get worse as he gets older, won’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s probably why they made him a diplomat’s son. And then he’s going to be sent off to a boarding school if Harriet doesn’t stand her ground about that,” Nenna added, both of them making faces, not wanting to imagine just how terrible it would be for Warlock and their cause if Warlock was sent away to a boarding school. “So what are you going to do?”

“I think we’ll need to find a way for me to spend more time with him,” Francis admitted. “If the fears of the outside continue, we’re not going have even the limited time together in the gardens and parks that we’d had. And then when the critters are preparing for their slumbers, he won’t have much to pay attention to in the gardens until spring comes again… oh.” Francis’ expression lifted with an idea and after a moment’s concentration there was a picture book in his hand. “What if I read to him for you? A lot of good lessons about caring, in books.”

Nenna made a face, craning her neck and putting her glasses back on to bring the title of the book into focus. “The Secret _Garden_,” she read, looking over the top of her glasses to spear him with a look. “What’s it about?”

Francis looked down at the book and stroked his hand over the cover. “A lost and lonely little girl who learns to make friends with those who aren’t like her at all, thanks to a mysterious garden that’s been locked away and forgotten. There’s more to it than that but this version is simple enough for him to understand.”

“Well, he likes when I tell him stories. And Harriet reads to him sometimes. Can’t hurt to try,” shrugged Nenna, watching Francis’ face behind the security of her dark glasses, hating to see the sadness in his eyes that he was clearly trying to hide. “Off tomorrow.”

“Uh, oh yes, I suppose we are.” He sighed and set the book aside, sipping at his tea, keeping his eyes downcast. He’d missed it, spending the evenings together, had missed seeing that inviting smirk as she told him what mischief Warlock had gotten up to. _But it’s all for the best, to have this distance again, to be reminded that my true loyalty is owed to Heaven. I’m doing this purely to keep humanity safe... and not because I want to keep a certain demon safe._ Aziraphale’s aching heart belied the very thought. “No reports due at least. I, er, did anyone-”

She grimaced at the reminder but shook her head. “No. I guess it wasn’t observed. I, uh, I was really sure they’d have someone watching, you know, besidesss me. ‘Snot like demons trust each other,” she said, Crowley’s mannerism bleeding through with her upset. “Did, did they-”

“Oh, no, they, er, they’re quite content to let things progress without any direct intervention on their part,” Francis admitted, twisting the ring on his finger to think about just how _happy_ the archangels were about the coming of the end times. “I-”

“I shouldn’t have bit your head off like that,” Nenna blurted, keeping her eyes on the fire. “Should’ve known they’d foist it off on me and get on with other things. He’s just a pawn until he comes into his power, hardly worth noticing. Just like… Honestly, as long as he’s not harmed, I don’t think they’d notice or care if the whole city burned down around him.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Probably congratulate him for it.”

Francis knew that was as much of an apology as he was likely to get, but considering he’d expected to be _giving_ one, it was more than enough to soothe any lingering upset. “You, you had no real way of knowing. It’s not like you could ask.” He smiled a little when she let out an amused laugh. “And, er, well, in the heat of the moment, you did what you thought was best, to keep everyone safe. No one can fault you for that.”

She turned to stare at him, caught by surprise, then caught in the sadness of his eyes for a moment before giving him a quick nod of acknowledgement of the olive branch he was offering and looking away again. They sat and sipped their tea, listening to the cozy sound of the fire crackling while the storm finally broke outside. After a while she threw a look his direction and said, “Wasn’t going to send them to Scotland Yard, you know.” She smirked at his startled expression and explained, “Was going to send them to the restricted area in the Tower.”

Francis snorted out a laugh at that. “You did that to the fellows who kept wanting to buy the shop from me and wouldn’t take no for an answer, didn’t you?”

Nenna grinned widely at the memory. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“It did,” Francis agreed, chuckling. “They never came back.”

“Hmm,” she said, sipping her tea, watching him sidelong. “Plans tomorrow?”

“Oh, no, no plans. Not sure I’ll bother going anywhere, if it continues raining.”

“It’ll be clear,” she said confidently. “You know, we could spend the day out,” she offered offhandedly, pretending her heart didn’t lift to see the startled and hopeful expression cross that silly face Aziraphale was wearing. “Been a while since I checked on my flat. You could check on the shop while I’m doing that. And we can indulge in all the things Harriet’s banned from the house to keep Warlock safe.” She waited a beat, lowering her glasses just enough to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “What do you say? Let me tempt you?”

He noticed the little smirk first, inviting him in on the joke of a demon politely asking an angel about temptation, and looked up into Crowley’s lovely worried eyes, and admitted, “I’d like that very much, my dear.”

“Excellent.” Nenna quickly stood and circled around to pat Francis’ shoulder, keeping him from getting up. “I’ll ‘step myself out, angel. Meet you at the café for brunch.”

**∞**

They had a very good day off, having brunch in the café near the bookshop before spending time in their own spaces and meeting up again for a stroll through the museum before going to dinner. The time alone and together as themselves helped to return the rest of the equilibrium that had been displaced, and they lingered over coffee and shared desserts discussing how best to bring Brother Francis out of the gardens and into the house.

“I could get sick,” Aziraphale suggested, savoring the last few bites of the trifle Crowley had ordered.

“Nah,” dismissed Crowley, licking the last of the chocolate icing from their fork and shifting Aziraphale’s empty plate out of the way, hunching over and crossing their arms on the table as they considered. “They’ll just send you to hospital. Then sack you, knowing Mr. Dowling.”

Aziraphale pursed their lips but nodded. “True. I suppose the same is true for a sprained ankle or something that would keep me off my feet.”

Crowley nodded, mentally pulling up and discarding idea after idea until- “Ah.” A smile began to tug on their lips and they leaned towards Aziraphale, who had just finished their last bite. “What if I’m the one with a sprain? Hard to keep up with a lively little boy, but oh, the kind generous beloved gardener has er, generously offered to be of help, right? Waiting for an order for restoring the garden, not much to do until it arrives… yeah?”

“B-beloved,” Aziraphale echoed, taking a quick sip of coffee when their voice went squeaky. “The boy’s fond of me but best not oversell it,” they said, smiling at the server who’d come to collect their plates, missing the fleeting look of consternation that crossed Crowley’s face when they realized their slip.

“Right, the boy, well, not really an exaggeration. He always looks for you.”

“Me, or the birds?” said Aziraphale knowingly, giving Crowley a smile when they shrugged. “But your idea’s quite sound. Should we wait a few days or enact it tonight?”

“Best let it stew, see if we can improve upon it,” said Crowley, pulling out money for the bill and dropping it on the table. “Ssso, think I’m out walking the grounds and have a spill and sprain a wrist? Or somewhere else?”

“Oh, definitely on the property,” said Aziraphale, following Crowley out of the restaurant. “That way Mr. Dowling has less incentive to demand a replacement be brought in,” the angel suggested with surprising slyness.

Crowley nodded thoughtfully in agreement, hiding both of them from notice and shifting into their Nanny Nenna Ashtoreth persona. “Ah, and being hired privately means it’s Mr. Dowling’s responsibility, instead of whichever agency handles the staff, doesn’t it,” said Nenna, having to look away as Aziraphale became Brother Francis again, always wanting to laugh at the ridiculousness of his appearance.

“That was my thought,” Brother Francis agreed, smiling to himself to see her struggling not to smile. When they arrived at a crossroads they gave each other a nod and went separate ways to wait for their buses back to the Dowling’s residence.

The route Nanny Ashtoreth took was the faster one, arriving not long after Warlock was usually tucked in to bed. She went upstairs to check in with Harriet, who was reading quietly to herself in the rocking chair with a dozing Warlock curled up in her arms. “Hello, Mrs. Dowling. Just wanted to let you know I’m back if you’ve anything you need to see to,” said Nenna.

“Hello. Did you have a good day? This is all I’m seeing to right now,” said Harriet lowly, running her hand over Warlock’s hair. “Let me get him settled in bed real quick.” Nenna went and pulled down the covers while Harriet carried Warlock into his room and tucked him in before following Nanny Ashtoreth back out into the hallway. “Poor baby had another nightmare during his nap but he couldn’t tell me what it was about. Refused to go back to sleep, so very cranky all afternoon. He hasn’t wanted to leave my side since then.”

Nenna frowned. Frequent nightmares in magical children could be a sign of something trying to influence them. Which would be double worrisome in regards to Warlock, the antichrist. _Maybe the angel can put a blessing over the room, to keep unwanted influences out. Well, unwanted influences besides ours._ “No doubt the nightmares are some lingering fears from the uproar last week. I could ask Brother Francis if he has some lavender or chamomile to hang in Warlock’s room, if you’d like? Old folk remedy for sleep problems.”

“Oh, would you? Anything that might help,” Harriet said, giving Nenna a grateful smile. “Er, Nanny?” she said before Nenna could leave, smiling awkwardly as she tried to find the words to ask about what was bothering her. “Did you and Brother Francis have a fight?”

Nenna couldn’t hide the surprise that flashed across her face before being hidden behind a blandly polite smile. “Oh, no, dear. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, well, Warlock was asking why he hadn’t seen you and Brother Francis in the garden lately,” Harriet deflected, not wanting to admit that she’d noticed as well. In the time since they’d come, Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis had become fixtures to the rest of the household, more so than anyone else, and any change in their routine sent out noticeable ripples. “I tried to tell him it’s been too rainy to spend a lot of time outside but.” She shrugged. “I noticed too,” she finally admitted. “You both seem upset. Is it because of what happened?”

Nenna wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it without giving too much away. “It wasn’t a fight, not exactly… It’s just taking a while for ruffled feathers to settle again, is all.”

Harriet’s eyes went wide with dismay. “Did- did he do something, overstep in some way?”

Nenna couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. “No! No, Francis is an angel, dear. An actual, literal angel.” Her lips twisted into a sharply rueful smile. “If anyone overstepped, it was me. But Francis has forgiven me already, usually does, in time.”

“Oh,” said Harriet, clearly dying to ask what she knew she shouldn’t ask. “You, er, you and Brother Francis seem pretty close..?”

“Best friends,” Nenna corrected, quickly turning away when Harriet’s eyes went wide at whatever she’d heard in Nenna’s voice. “I’ll go ask about the herbs, Mrs. Dowling.”

“Uh, thanks, Nanny.”

Nenna hurried out into the ill-lit gardens and made a beeline for Francis’ picturesque cottage with its warmly glowing windows, scolding herself for saying too much. “Bless the woman to heaven for being so blessedly friendly,” Nenna swore under her breath and then stepped into nothingness and felt something in her right ankle crack, pain shooting up her left arm when she landed badly. “Ow! Merda! Scheisse! Shit!”

Brother Francis had just arrived at the cottage and heard her cursing, startled to find her sprawled on the grassy path near a small but deep hole hidden by the greenery, caused by runoff from the unseasonably long rainstorm. “Ms. Ashtoreth?” Francis hurried to help her up, assuming she’d seen an opportunity and had impulsively decided to take it. “I’m so sorry, the storm must have washed out part of the path. Are you terribly hurt?” He blinked in surprise when she clung tightly to him and balanced wobblingly on her left leg, left arm clutched to her chest and his heart lurched with concern when he got a clear look at her drawn face. “Really hurt?” he whispered.

“I think the ankle’s cracked, maybe my wrissst too,” she hissed, eyes burning with tears that couldn’t fall, pain radiating out from her ankle and wrist with every pulse. “I should know better, jussst walking around not paying attention. That’s what got us caught-”

“This has been a safe place, is supposed to be a safe place,” Francis reassured her, heart aching to know she was in pain. Demons couldn’t miracle or magic themselves better; it was either let it heal on its own, which while significantly faster than humans was not instantaneous, or go downstairs and bathe the injury in hellfire and hope to hold out long enough to let the hellfire mend it before being discorporated. “Let me-”

“No, not yet, to he-heaven with it, makes it more believable, being true,” Nenna said hoarsely. “Just need a few witnesses.” She sent her senses outward and nodding her head towards where a pair of goons were approaching their location. She spoke a little louder, not trying to hide how her voice quavered with pain. “I was just coming out to see if you had any lavender or chamomile, to help Warlock sleep easier. He’s had another nightmare, poor boy.”

“I’m sure I do, but that must wait until we know how hurt you are and have you set to rights.” Francis nodded to the two goons, relieved to see they were some of the nicer ones. “Go open the door, can ye? Ms. Ashtoreth’s been victim to the cursed rain.”

The men quickly moved to comply, calling in the cause of the disturbance as they did so. Nenna tried to put weight on her foot but just hissed in pain, and Francis asked, “Pardon my familiarity, Ms. Ashtoreth, but it’ll be easier on you if you’d allow me to carry you?” When she reluctantly nodded he gently lifted Nenna up into his arms and moved with the utmost caution, terribly worried he’d cause her more pain.

“Little sinkholes have popped up all over,” one of the goons said sympathetically. “Record amount of rain this week. Seems like a miracle it finally stopped.”

“Yes, I had a lovely day off, only to end it like this,” Nenna agreed with a grimace, knowing as much as it hurt, it wouldn’t hurt for very long, not with the angel fussing over it. There was a minor uproar as one of the staff with first aid training was fetched and Harriet was told about the incident, arriving in the kitchen to find Nenna tightly gripping Francis’ hand while her ankle was being looked over, her left wrist already iced.

“You should probably get it x-rayed,” said the woman, setting another ice pack carefully over it. “It’s already bruising-”

“Oh, no-”

“I’ll take you myself,” said Harriet, expression set in implacable lines. “Benny told me what happened. He’ll keep an eye on Warlock, Nanny, don’t worry.”

“If you insist, Mrs. Dowling.” Nenna let out a resigned sigh when Harriet nodded, giving Francis a worried look. Stuck in an unknown place while injured had her stomach knotting with a familiar old fear that she couldn’t quite hide.

“Best you get it looked at,” said Francis, easily reading Nenna’s expression and patting her hand reassuringly, finessing a healing spell to heal any fractures while leaving the bruises and swelling. “Please, what can I do? I’d take the pain itself if I could,” he said apologetically.

Nenna relaxed a little as the worst of the pain eased and she squeezed his hand to show she understood - if it was healed enough to stop the pain, it would be too healed to convince a doctor and would have everyone asking too many questions. But now she could run if she had to.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind helping her to my car-”

“Oh, easy enough. Light as an angel’s feather, she is,” Francis teased, smiling when Nenna rolled her eyes with a disgusted sigh. When he bent down to lift her again she slipped her right arm around his shoulders and held on tightly as he gathered her gently in his arms. “Here we are, hold on now. I’ve got you.”

Nenna grimaced in pain as Francis lifted her and held her close and while he might sound and look like Brother Francis, it was all Aziraphale underneath and she gave in and rested her head trustingly against theirs. They murmured apologies and reassurances as they moved through the house and down the stairs out to the carriage house, and she closed her eyes against the burn of unsheddable tears, the tender treatment dredging up memories of other times that were better left forgotten. She kept telling herself it was just part of the Brother-Francis-is-kind-to-everyone act and hoped she’d start believing it soon.

Francis set Nenna down beside the SUV, helping her into the passenger seat and to fasten the seatbelt at Mrs. Dowling’s insistence but hesitated to close the door. “I-” When they both turned to look at him, he stared into Nenna’s drawn, worried face and offered, “Might I come with you?”

“You don’t have to,” Nenna murmured.

“Yes, please do,” said Harriet. “She’ll need help getting in and out of the car and around the hospital.” Harriet smiled when Nanny Ashtoreth frowned at her. “Don’t fuss,” Harriet said in her mom voice, grinning when Nanny let out a hissy sigh but didn’t protest as Brother Francis settled into the back seat and buckled himself in.

It was a few hours later when they returned to the house, Nenna’s ankle and wrist wrapped, with orders to limit activities for at least a week, preferably more. Harriet preceded Francis and Nenna up the stairs, opening the door to her room and watching as Francis very tenderly set her onto the bed.

“There you are,” he murmured, having fully healed her the moment they were out of the hospital. “Need anything?”

“Thank you, no,” Nenna said, putting her hand on his arm and impulsively telling him, “You always do more than I have a right to ask of you. Always.”

Francis went still at the bittersweet reminder of the inexplicable bond they had forged in the Garden. It took him a moment before he could softly answer in kind. “Always... Happy to help, my dear.” He patted her hand and left the room and Harriet wondered if she hadn’t seen tears in his eyes as he excused himself.

“Is there anything I can get you? I feel terrible about this, Nanny.”

“Not your fault dear,” Nenna said, feeling almost as worn out as she had after the failed abduction. Being so close to Francis was turning out to be… fraught, in ways she hadn’t expected, because though he looked and sounded so different, when she closed her eyes, it was Aziraphale she sensed. It continued to dredge up the hazy ancient memories of other times they had looked after one another. And it brought back the memory of that brief euphoric joining that had almost doomed both of them. “Just rest like the doctor ordered. And tomorrow we’ll see if Brother Francis is up to the task of helping us tend to young Warlock.”

“I think there’s a spine of steel under that tender exterior,” said Harriet thoughtfully. “A match to yours, I think,” she said, patting Nanny’s hand. “I’ve never met anyone as stoic as you. I’d have been crying buckets in your place.”

Nenna gave her a ghost of a smile and shook her head. “One faint silver lining of my eye condition, no tears to give away my feelings. Always seem cool, even when I’m not,” she admitted with a rueful smirk. “And copious amounts of pain killers help of course.”

Harriet cringed at the memory of the shot they’d injected into Nenna’s ankle to block the pain. “I suppose so. You call me if you need anything,” she admonished, using the mom voice again, grinning when Nanny clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes but nodded in appeasement. “Good night, Nanny.”

“Good night… Harriet.” Nenna shook her head at the beaming smile Harriet gave her for using her given name, and flapped her hands to shoo Harriet from the room. She flopped back onto the bed with a groan, knowing she was in for a very long night trapped with her thoughts and and miracled up a high end gaming laptop even though it went entirely against her persona. Anything to keep her mind occupied.

**∞**

Brother Francis turned up at Nanny Ashtoreth’s door after breakfast, hesitantly stepping inside and partially closing it behind himself when she waved him inside, careful to keep up appearances. “Morning, er, Nanny. Hope ye don’t mind but I wanted to be sure all the holes and mess had been dealt with afore I came in,” he said, stuffing his cap into his pocket and revealing his balding head and the natural tonsure he’d combed a few long straggling hairs over.

Nenna was propped up in her bed with her fully healed wrapped ankle up on a pillow, her wrist also wrapped, dressed in her very proper pajamas (black flannel) and a robe (black with red collar and cuffs), her hair left in loose waves and wearing no makeup at all. She shook her head to reassure him, but also frowned to admonish him for the choice of hair that she was struggling to not laugh at. “For the best, wouldn’t want anyone else getting hurt.” _What were you thinking?_ she mouthed, gesturing to his hair.

He gave her a slightly sly smile but didn’t respond. “Warlock’s in a state and asking to see you, when you’re up for it.”

“I think I’m ready to see him,” said Nenna, slipping her glasses on.

Francis opened the door and put down a hand to keep Warlock from running in. “Ah, no my lad, that won’t do, not at all. Yer Nanny was hurt and you don’t want to be hurting her more.”

Warlock sniffled and pouted when Francis didn’t relent and Tina, the youngest staff member, was glad to be off babysitting duty when Francis gave her a grateful nod and closed the door. “Nanny!”

“Hello, Warlock dear. Sorry to upset you but I’ve had a little accident.” She held out her right hand to him and he sniffled as she explained about not being able to take care of him alone for the next little while and that Brother Francis and Benny and maybe some of the others were going to be helping her and his mother until she was better.

But instead of calming down, it made Warlock more and more upset until he was sniffling and sobbing unhappily. When Francis went to his knees he flung himself into Francis’ arms and hid his face against Francis’ soft old shirt, still crying. “My boy, tell us what the matter is. Are you upset Nanny‘s hurt?” Warlock nodded. “Oh, yes, but she’s going to get better, I promise,” Francis assured him. “And you and I are going to help her do so.”

Nenna couldn’t help but grin at the ambitions plans Brother Francis detailed out to distract Warlock from his upset and she waved them off when one of the maids returned to collect Nenna’s breakfast tray. It was an uncomfortably quiet time for Nenna, having become used to frenetic days with Warlock and when her mind started wandering back to being held and holding on to the angel, which eventually shifted back to the painful memories of the last time they’d embraced she threw herself back into the videogame she’d started the night before. She was in desperate need of distractions, since sleep refused to come.

A few hours later there was a knock at the door and she hastily vanished the laptop before answering. It was Francis who poked his head in. “Ready for a visit?”

“Certainly. Oh, what’s all this?” she asked, eyes going wide when Warlock marched in, his arms full of things. He politely asked for permission to sit on the bed with her and Francis lifted him up when she nodded. She listened attentively as Warlock told her about each item before handing it to her. First was Miss Bee Hive, which was a bee plushy that Warlock insisted would help her get better. And a handful of little plastic aquatic dinosaurs, for her to play pretend with, and a coloring book and all the dark colors from the crayon box, because he knew she liked them better. And there was a pair of partially crumbled chocolate chip cookies in a napkin, saved from his own lunch to share with her.

And if Nenna could have cried, she would have. “Thank you very much, dear,” she said thickly, giving Francis a scolding look.

“He thought of this all on his own,” Francis protested, pulling out his own handkerchief to dab at his eyes. “He wanted to give you his whole lunch but I said you’d get your own.”

“Ah. Yes, a good filling lunch of my own.” Nenna cleared her throat and held open her arms to Warlock. “All that’s missing is a hug- Yes, that’s just what the doctor ordered.”

“Still no interest in going to the park,” Francis said lowly. “So we threw seed at my little friends and tried to sit really really still to see if they’d eat from his hand.” He chuckled and ruffled Warlock’s hair. “He needs a little more practice at that yet.”

“You’ve had a busy day, haven’t you, my boy?” she asked the sleepy child, who nodded. “Time for a little rest, so you’ll be all ready to conquer the world later-”

He shook his head vehemently in the negative, pressing his face against her shoulder, sniffling a little. “Wanna stay, Nanny.”

“For a little while,” she soothed, making a face at Francis when he smirked knowingly. “Why don’t we have Brother Francis read us a story. You like stories.”

“Okay,” Warlock agreed, fighting to keep his eyes open.

Francis blinked in surprise and looked around, finding a chair tucked in a corner and carrying it closer to the bed before taking off his coat and settling down in the chair. “Looks like we have a new story for you today, Mister Warlock,” he said, pretending to have discovered the book by sitting on it and making Warlock giggle. “This story is called The Secret Garden, it’s one of my favorite stories…”

He didn’t get even halfway through the book before Warlock was soundly asleep and he carefully took him and tucked him into bed, Nenna making a show of limping in after him to ensure her charge was tucked in properly. She whispered, “He really has been having nightmares, that’s why I was coming to see you last night. Bless the room? In case?”

Francis nodded and miracled up a couple of sachets with dried lavender and chamomile inside, tucking one near the head of Warlock’s bed, the other near the foot while saying a low blessing under his breath, as always making sure to add the caveat that Crowley in any guise didn’t count as an unwanted or evil influence. “You should bless it too.”

Nenna frowned, shaking her head when Francis nodded. “It’s not a blessing-”

“It is,” Francis insisted. “It’s the intent that makes a blessing, not the language it’s couched in. Your intent is to keep him safe from harm, so it _is_ a blessing.”

Nenna let out a hissing sigh but finally said, “I place my _blessing_ upon this place and this boy; a promise of unholy torments to those who seek harm, and a slow death and a watery grave to those who’ve caused it.”

Francis’ bushy eyebrows winged upwards as he offered his arm to her, helping her back into her room. “Not familiar with that one.”

“Eh, thought I’d try something new. Warlock’s newest obsession is the ocean, as you’ve seen, so it seemed fitting,” she shrugged, sitting back down on the bed and propping her foot back up.

“Ah.” He settled back into the chair with a sigh. “I’ve begun to understand why you’ve taken to sleeping so much,” he said, half joking, smiling when she laughed loudly.

“And they do it _on purpose_,” Nenna reminded him, laughing more when he shook his head in feigned amazement.

“Do what?” Harriet asked from the doorway, pleased to see them smiling again, waving for Francis to stay seated when he started to rise. “No, Brother Francis, no need. Just wanted to check up on Warlock. Did he-” She let out a sigh when they both shook their head in answer. “I hope he’ll want to go to the park again soon. Maybe by his birthday the memory will be faded enough. How are you holding up, Nanny?”

“Bored, to be honest,” said Nenna with a shrug. “I don’t think it’s nearly as bad as the doctor thinks. I’m prone to twisted ankles, I know the signs.”

“Well, I won’t nag you, as long as you promise to let Brother Francis help you up and down the stairs and in keeping an eye on Warlock,” Harriet insisted, smiling in relief when Nenna sighed but nodded. “Good.” She smothered a yawn and admitted, “Maybe I should take a nap myself. Haven’t exactly had a restful sleep the past few nights.”

“Oh, well, here ye are, Mrs. Dowling, I made this and the two in Warlock’s room up last night,” said Francis, pulling another blessed sachet from his coat pocket and offering it to her. “A blend of some fragrant herbs to help calm the nerves. Lavender, chamomile and the like.”

She took an appreciative sniff and some of the tension went out of her shoulders. “That’s lovely, Brother Francis, thank you. You know, I think I’ll give it a little try right now.”

“Sweet dreams,” said Nenna, giving Francis a little smirk when she was sure Harriet was out of hearing range. “I could feel the power on that from here.”

“Yes, well, she’s been out on the kitchen patio at all hours of the night,” said Francis. “Talking with the Mr. while he’s back in the States.” He grimaced to indicate the overall tenor of those calls and said lowly, “Mr. Dowling’s upset she stayed here, with Warlock, she’s upset he didn’t.”

“Ah.” They sat in silence for a while, watching one another sidelong, neither one wanting to be the one to speak first, but finally Nenna gave in. “Angel...”

Something in her tone had Francis all but leaping up from his chair. “Well, things to see to in the gardens. Back later.” He hurried out and closed the door behind himself before she could speak, jamming his hat back down on head as he hurried down the stairs and out of the house.

He started whistling once he was outside and metaphysically up to his elbows in work, relieved and pleased to have a project to keep his thoughts occupied when he wasn’t watching Warlock. Eventually things would settle back into something closer to normal, but until then, he had a promise to keep. And a friend to keep safe.

**∞**

There was no way Nenna was spending another day trapped in her room and she said as much to Francis when he arrived with breakfast the next morning. “It’s boring. At least downstairs I can watch TV and listen to the staff gossip while Warlock runs you ragged.”

“He’s been nowt but a delight,” protested Francis.

“Because he knows your little friends will flutter away if he’s too rambunctious,” Nenna said, picking at her food, looking away from Francis when he frowned worriedly. The feeling of anger at herself was only growing while being isolated; for failing to pay attention and getting taken by surprise in the carriage house, and then again when she’d fallen into the tiny sinkhole pit trap. And the residual fear from the reminder that they weren’t immune from injury, had all conspired to continue to keep her awake at night, starting at every little noise, constantly sending her senses out to check for intruders.

“Nanny-” Francis looked at the partially closed door and nervously leaned closer to the bed, whispering in Celestial. “Crowley? Tell me?”

Nenna jumped a little, to hear their name in that tongue, and turned away from the window to look at Francis, seeing the concern so clear in Aziraphale’s eyes. “Haven’t slept for more than a couple hours since... Every little noise has me jumping like a hare looking for foxes.” There was a thump of a car door closing outside and Nenna did indeed jump, pressing a hand over her racing heart.

“Ah. I understand.” Francis didn’t try to offer any platitudes or reassurances, knowing they would be no comfort and no use. Until she felt safe again, and Francis was already working towards that end. “Would a blessing help?”

There was a knock on the door before she could answer and Harriet poked her head inside when Nenna called out. “There you are, Francis. I’ve got an appointment to get to-”

“I’ll be right down, Mrs. Dowling, and Ms. Ashtoreth with me. She’s lost her appetite and is wasting away from boredom, as ye can see,” he said playfully, beaming when Nenna rolled her eyes and quickly finished the last few bites of her food. “There’s a Nanny, being a good example for young mister Warlock.”

Harriet had to stifle a giggle at the look Nenna seared him with. “Careful on the stairs.”

“Aye, Mrs. Dowling, no more accidents.” He helped Nenna to her feet and picked her up again, pretending there wasn’t a blush making his cheeks burn from Nenna’s hand brushing against his neck, and had to remind himself to breathe normally and not just inhale the scent of moonlight and autumn breezes. And that the ache over his heart was just sympathy for the worries plaguing his friend, and not a longing for things that would never, could never, be. “I’ll keep her, safe and sound,” Francis promised.

“I know you will,” said Harriet with utmost confidence, following them down the stairs and running interference when Warlock cannoned out of the den towards his Nanny. “Oh, no, sorry honey but Nanny’s still hurt. You’ve got to be gentle with her.” Harriet crouched down in front of him when he started pouting. “None of that, mister. I know you want to go back to how things were, hmm? But it takes time to get better when you’re hurt and you have to be careful until the doctor says you’re all better. You want Nanny to get better, don’t you?”

Warlock nodded, rubbing at his eyes when tears started to well up. “I made Nanny hurt.”

“No,” they all said, and Harriet hugged him tightly and lifted him up, rocking to sooth him when the sniffles turned into real tears. “None of this is your fault honey. Cross my heart, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“None of it was your fault, dear,” Nenna told Warlock, rubbing her hand over his back while Harriet gently rocked him back and forth. “And I’ll be better in no time.”

“It was nothing to do with you, my boy,” added Francis, smiling when Warlock looked over Harriet’s shoulder at him. “You didn’t hurt your Nanny, Warlock, not a’tall.”

“How about we have Brother Francis read us more of the story, hmm?” Nenna said, nodding at Francis and holding out her arms the same way Warlock did when he wanted up, making Warlock and Harriet giggle when Francis picked Nenna up so she was looking back over his shoulder as he walked into the den. “Come on then.”

Harriet let Warlock down, sighing in relief when he pulled himself up short of flinging himself into Nanny’s lap. It was with a fond smile that she watched Francis help Warlock up into Nanny’s arms before sitting beside them on the couch and pulling out a picture book from behind his back, making Warlock gasp in amazement.

Harriet turned away after a moment, struck by the fact that she trusted the gardener and the nanny far more than any of the hired security people, new or old, but she shook her head and rationalized, _Well, I know them and I don’t really know the guards. That’s all._ But she also knew it was because the voice inside had told her they were trustworthy the moment she’d met them and their every action since then had proven the little voice right.

And she enjoyed a little chuckle at the image of Brother Francis holding Nanny Ashtoreth back from tearing a kidnapper to shreds only to turn around and politely punch the kidnapper himself. Funnier yet, and somehow still true to form, was the image of Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis bickering back and forth over something petty, only to both go supernova on some unsuspecting fool when the moment was right, like something from a cartoon. The image kept her smiling all day.

Not long after Mrs. Dowling left, Francis finished reading the book and put a finger to his lips when he saw that Nanny Ashtoreth had dozed off. He carefully helped Warlock down and with a little whispered encouragement, helped him put a throw blanket over Nanny before they went out into the gardens to enjoy the sunshine and talk about the story and other things while Francis worked on his ongoing project.

Nenna woke slowly and then with a start when she remembered where she was, letting out a sigh of relief that she hadn’t lost hold of the persona while she dozed. She smiled to see Warlock at her feet in a nest of pillows, happily coloring away, and she darted a look to Francis, who was seated at the other corner of the couch, a book folded closed around his finger, watching her. “Hello,” he said lowly. “Feeling better?”

Nenna nodded, surprised to see she’d slept most of the day. “Didn’t mean to leave you on your own,” she admitted, rubbing at her eyes under the cover of her glasses.

“Hardly on my own with everyone here, and Mrs. Dowling as well. He wanted to keep you company so she let him camp out down here. No nightmares this time.”

“That’s good.” Nenna fought a yawn and lost. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

“It’s been a long week,” said Francis, smiling when she snorted. “Takes time to recover from that sort of, er, excitement.”

She made a face but couldn’t disagree. “Aren’t you tired? Too?”

He looked away and admitted, “I made a little detour to, er the _Library_ yesterday, before brunch.” Francis looked back at her, relieved she didn’t seem upset by the admission. “Thought it best to be prepared, just in case.”

They both dropped the subject when Harriet came in to fetch Warlock for his dinner and Francis helped Nenna to the kitchen and then retreated back out into the gardens having finished his dinner in record time. Nenna found herself watching Francis though the windows as he bustled about with a clear goal in mind, though she couldn’t discern what it was.

Harriet and Warlock went to clean up after dinner, leaving Nenna alone in the kitchen, and she flicked through the channels on the TV before giving up and going back to watching Francis in the gardens. She hastily looked away when he looked up from what he was doing, pretending to be fascinated by her tea when he stepped inside, though she noticed the worry in his expression. “Is something the matter Francis?”

“I, er, I’d like your opinion on something. Outside?” he asked, wringing his hands together. He moved closer when she nodded, keeping up the appearance that she still needed help, offering his arm instead of picking her up, mostly because it would be easier to cast the spell with his hands free but also for a multitude of painful reasons he didn’t want to think about.

She looped her arm through his and limped her way out into the kitchen garden, to the little bistro set hidden among the greenery that they’d laid claim to the first day there and had used almost every night since. Nenna almost took her usual seat but canted her head curiously when Francis shook his head and looked around nervously before quickly casting the decoy spell over both of them. Their decoys took their seats while Francis led her back out of the kitchen gardens, across the grass, which wouldn’t crunch under their feet as the gravel paths would, to the little burbling fountain that was the focal point of the formal gardens.

“The fountain should cover the sound of us speaking,” Francis explained, reluctantly dropping his arm and stepping away from her.

“And what are we speaking about?” Nenna asked coolly, keeping her eyes on the fountain for fear of what she’d see in Francis’, in Aziraphale’s eyes. She’d more than overstepped with her temper, and then to bring up the bond that the angel had surely unspoken after so long…

“This.” Power flared around him as he activated the webwork of spells he’d been working on day and night since the abduction attempt. It had taken more than a little improvising, to keep the wards from being visible to normal people, and a lot of power, to cover as much ground as the estate entailed, but the visit to the Library of the Hosts had infused Aziraphale with more than enough power to set their plan into motion. He beamed at her when the spells activated without any corporeal indication of doing so, but gleamed with a warm comforting glow against their otherworldly senses. “They’re keyed to both of us, of course.”

Nenna sent her senses through the wards, shaking her head slowly in amazement. “Angel,” she croaked out, staring sightlessly at the protective magic Aziraphale had so painstakingly woven around the entire estate, words and emotions clogging her throat. “Angel, I-”

Francis dared, in that secret, stolen moment, to take her hand and press it between both of his own. “Should have done this right at the start, really,” he said lightly. “Only makes sense. Hope you don’t mind my presumption, taking this on by myself, but you’ve plenty on your plate already, what with being run ragged by the antichrist and everything.”

Nenna shook her head again, clutching tightly to his hand, for once glad she couldn’t cry.

“Now you can rest easy,” Francis told her, his own voice going a little hoarse. “Knowing it’s always there.” That was as close as he could dare to saying that he’d done it for her. Another courting gift that could never be.

“Always,” she whispered back.

They didn’t dare linger too long and reluctantly they took the places of their decoys, though they were just as mute, watching the night roll in. Afterward Nenna went upstairs under her own power, though Francis hovered nearby under the pretext of helping her if she needed it.

Francis stopped at the top of the stairs and pulled another blessed sachet from the pocket of his coat, offering it to her. “Seemed you could benefit from one of these too?”

Nenna accepted it and sniffed, closing her eyes to enjoy the scent of lavender and chamomile, and underneath, the scent of sunshine. “Thank you,” she said lowly, withdrawing to her room, watching through the window as he retreated to the little cottage out in the gardens.


	6. The Caretakers ∞ Dog's Barking Can't Fly Without Umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nanny Ashtoreth is taken by surprise and it's up to Brother Francis to help extract her and Warlock from an unpleasant situation.
> 
> (This is going to be heavily edited, hopefully soon (as of Feb 2020))

SOON TO BE EDITED

After the meeting in the garden, it didn’t take much more convincing for Warlock to accept his very unusual caretakers. It was they who had to adapt, because Warlock preferred to spend time with them together when his mother was away, which had not been in their plans at all. Their routine grew as Warlock did, and there were more and more times when Harriet was away with her husband, but she talked with Warlock every night before bed and asked for detailed updates from Nenna once the boy was asleep.

It was another weekend without Harriet at home. Nanny Ashtoreth kept a hold of Warlock’s hand as they got closer to the ducks and the pond, knowing full well that the boy would run headlong into the water in an effort to pet them, because all his time with the angel had taught the boy was that he could pet _anything_ (as though her own efforts did not count), which even a demon knew was not a good thing to teach a small child with no sense of self preservation.

Having a nice guardian angel and a geas-bound guardian demon had resulted in a very spoiled boy.

“Wanna pet the ducks!” Warlock demanded, tugging at Nenna’s hand. “Mr. Finks says I can!”

“Who’s Mr. Finks?” Nenna asked with a sense of sudden foreboding, but it was too late, because Warlock had dragged Nenna into the binding spell and the world went black.

Nenna was awoken a little while later by an odd humming sensation over her heart. She pressed a hand to her aching head, realized her sunglasses were gone, and looked around. Very disoriented, she pushed herself up into a sitting position and found herself in a dark musty room, inside a glaring magical circle that made it impossible to see clearly into the surrounding darkness. Her purse was gone but she was relieved to discover the compass still safely tucked in the inner pocket of her jacket, humming almost audibly. “This isn’t good.” Her quick attempt at a miracle and the sharp backlash of rebounded magic made her curse.

A blinding spotlight flared into life and she flung up her hands to shield her eyes. “_Demon_,” boomed a man’s voice. “Remove your foul enchantments!”

“What are you on about?” Nenna squinted through the bright white light, trying to make out who was talking, but could only see silhouettes, at least five that she could make out. When she tried to send her senses outward, the spell blocked it and she swore inwardly again. “Where’s Warlock? Why are you doing this?” she said, curling up on the floor with one arm still covering her face, and triggered the compass.

Brother Francis appeared in the vision, his annoyance instantly morphing into worry when he caught sight of Nenna inside the spell circle. “Wha-”

“Dogs barking, can’t fly without umbrella,” Nenna hissed and snapped the compass shut, slipping it into her shirt when one of the silhouettes moved towards the circle. “Don’t hurt me,” she pleaded, looking up at the man through her fingers.

“Silence!” He was an ascetic looking elderly white man, dressed in a very expensive and well tailored gray suit that was nevertheless a few decades out of style. “The wicked magics that make the child wail and thrash like one possessed. Release him!”

“I haven’t done anything to harm Warlock. I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Nenna told him honestly. Clearly they were fanatics of some sort. Normal people don’t talk like that. But which religion? If it even was a religion. And which side? Not that it really mattered. Any one of them might want to kill the anti-christ, or to raise him for their own purpose, or they might not even realize what Warlock embodied and just saw a demon to be captured and used or sent back to hell. And none of those scenarios ended in a good way for Warlock or Crowley. “You’re the monsters who stole away a small child and his nanny and interrupted his favorite after-lunch pre-nap hobby of throwing peas at the ducks. Of course he’s upset!”

“We don’t believe your lies, _deceiver_! Release the boy!”

“You’re mad.” She dropped her head into her hands, trying to think of a way out of this mess that wouldn’t result in being discorporated or worse. _Fuck. _Would the angel even remembered the code? The compass had stopped humming, but that didn’t tell her anything. “He’s just a little boy. Don’t hurt him.”

The man sneered and moved away again and there was a bunch of whispering that she couldn’t make out, and then the spotlight went out, plunging the room back into darkness. There were shuffling footsteps and the surprisingly loud clank of a door being bolted shut and a musty quiet settled over the room that told her she was truly alone.

She waited, and waited, and when it was clear they weren’t going to return just yet, laid down on her stomach facing away from where the sound of the door had come from and pulled out the compass. It actually took a few attempts before she got the words right but then Brother Francis was in her mind’s eye, eyes and hair wild with frantic worry as he hurried across the park. She hurriedly launched into a whispered explanation, afraid their captors could return at any moment. “I’m fine, but they’ve got me trapped in a circle. I don’t know where we are but they think his crying is from me putting a spell over him.”

Brother Francis took a few deep breaths, face blank as he considered what she was telling him. “So they clearly know less than we do about children, which says a lot about them. Religious?”

“No mention of it besides calling me a demon. Spokesman is an old white bloke.” Nenna tried again to peer around the room but still couldn’t make out much. “Can’t see much past the circle. What time is it?”

“His usual nap time just started,” said Francis, stepping into a sheltered spot and morphing into Aziraphale. “I was waiting at the park, and I heard Warlock scream and the security men were escorting you both off to big black cars that I didn’t recognize,” Aziraphale told her lowly. “You haven’t been gone long enough to worry anyone yet, especially with the Dowlings being away.”

“Warlock mentioned a Mr. Finks?”

“Don’t know the name. Clearly the security team hasn’t been as keen as they should be,” frowned Aziraphale. “I’m going to try something, no idea if it’ll work but I’ve got to do something. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Wait-” Nenna growled when the connection was severed and glared into the mirror in an effort to reconnect it. After a moment she found herself looking down at the city from a height, amidst an odd collection of birds flying in all one direction, and in the lead a huge white swan. _Oh, angel, what the hea-, hel-, whatever are you doing?_

The sound of the latch being pulled back had her hastily hiding the compass in her shirt again before scrambling to her feet, worried that they might decide to be rid of her and then she’d have to explain to hell… Better to be dissolved in holy water than to face the Dark Council or Satan himself.

The spotlight was turned back on and the same man stalked up to the edge of the circle. “This is your last chance, demon! Release the boy from your vile sorcery, or we will send you back to your dark master!”

“I haven’t done anything to him!” she yelled back. “He’s a little boy who’s just been kidnapped, of course he’s going to cry and scream you daft bugger!”

“Nanny!” There was a gasp and a raised voice and suddenly Warlock was wrapped around Nenna’s knees, sobbing into the dark tweed fabric.

“I’m here, Warlock,” she said, lifting him up into her arms. “Did they hurt you?” Warlock shook his head, but one cheek was quite a bit redder than the other and his shirt was damp, she assumed from crying, and she turned glowing furious eyes on the man, who hastily stepped away from the circle.

It was about then that the flock descended on the building with a cacophonous chorus of screams and cries and honks and Nenna’s lips curled into a feral grin when the man sent a few of the men outside. “That probably wasn’t a good idea,” she said, unconsciously rocking to soothe the still sniffling Warlock.

“What did you do, demon?”

Her smile widened farther when there were alarmed yells that turned into pained screams. “I didn’t do anything, but then, I didn’t have to. Because I’m not his only caretaker.”

“Bwother Fwancis,” mumbled Warlock, as the man manning the light yelled in surprise as a couple of mice ran up his trousers. The leader backed farther away from the circle and pulled a small bottle from his pocket, looking around warily as the rest of his men collapsed into whimpering piles of regret under the squeaking, _biting_, onslaught.

It was then that Aziraphale, again disguised as Brother Francis, dropped the illusion. “Begone servant of Satan and banish now all that is unholy in the name of God-” the old man yelled, tossing the contents of the bottle into Brother Francis’ face only to stare in dismay when nothing happened.

“I think it’s best if you all sleep now,” he said with a wave of his hand, and the old man folded up peacefully and began to snore. The screams stopped and the rodents scurried away to their dens where piles of food awaited, reward for a job well done. “That should be all of them. Let’s get you out of there, shall we?” It didn’t take much to disable the circle and Nenna quickly stepped out of it when it powered down. “Did they hurt you?”

She shook her head but Warlock hid his face in her shoulder and she quickly grabbed Francis’ arm when his face went thunderous and he whipped around towards the man who’d tried to banish him. “No time for that, angel. I bet your arrival has gotten a bit of attention, so might be best if we’re off, eh?”

“Yes, well, let’s just make sure there’s no doubt about what they were up to, shall we?” He snapped his fingers and suddenly there was a small notebook in the old man’s jacket pocket, conveniently detailing all their nefarious plans for the proper authorities to deal with. Another snap had an illusion settled over them again and they were down the street and flagging down a taxi by the time the first police car arrived.

And when the police arrived at the Dowling’s, Warlock was asleep in his bed with a wee fever, and Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis were having an early tea and playing cards in her room right next door. Nenna hushed the flustered police officers and escorted them back down to the parlor, where the police explained that there was a plot to kidnap Warlock that afternoon. Brother Francis made tutting noises and said, “A blessing is disguise then, that the boy came down with a bit of something and had to be put to bed. How he cried, but Nanny Ashtoreth knows best, of course and-”

Nenna patted him rather harder than necessary on the shoulder and smiled at the confused men. “We really should be keeping an eye on our ward, gentlemen, if you’re done with us?”

When they nodded she sauntered away and there were amused glances between the men when they saw Brother Francis watch her go. “I guess we know who wears the pants, eh? I bet she’s a real hellion in-” one of them snickered only to find themself pinned in place by piercing blue eyes.

“That is no way for a gentleman and an officer of the law to talk about a lady,” said Brother Francis with icy disdain. “I expect you all to do better.” He nodded when they all looked away and followed Nenna out of the room, allowing himself a small satisfied smile when the other police officers scolded the rude one. Nenna was just coming out of Warlock’s room when he arrived and they returned to their tea and card game while the house buzzed with excitement around them.

It had just barely died down when the Dowlings returned home and Harriet raced up to Warlock’s room, only to be blocked by the two of them. “Mrs. Dowling, my dear lady, if you go in like that, you’ll just make him scared,” Brother Francis warned her quietly, escorting her into Nanny Ashtoreth’s room, where Nenna had already miracled her a cup of tea.

“He’s safe and sound,” Nenna assured her. “A touch of fever, and tired from the excitement of the day, but it’s likely passed by now. And once your nerves are settled he’ll be happy to see you.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right,” said Harriet, letting out a shaky sigh. “I had the most horrible feeling all morning, that something bad was going to happen, but I just ignored it-”

“If you’d been there, dear, they might have tried to take you instead,” murmured Nenna. “And all’s well, so let’s not fuss about what might have been.”

“It feels like a miracle,” Harriet said after peeking into Warlock’s room and seeing him peacefully asleep in his bed. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost him.”

“With God’s grace, you’ll never find out,” said Brother Francis with a little finger wiggle, ignoring Nenna’s frown. “Children really are such a blessing.” Mrs. Dowling nodded, not really listening as he continued with more platitudes until she finally excused herself after trying to smother a wide yawn.

“What was that about?” Nenna asked when Mrs. Dowling was gone.

“Just a little something to take the edge off for her, but she needs to sleep for it to take affect.”

“Hmm. Well, I could use some sleep myself,” said Nenna, standing to tidy up the remnants of their tea things. “Do you want me to say thank you?” she asked quietly when he brought over his things to be piled back into the basket she’d had brought up from the kitchens.

“What? No, after everything you’ve done for me, one good turn deserves another, my dear, that’s all.” He looked at her profile and murmured, “I just wish...”

“Yes.” She met his gaze and easily guessed what and when he was thinking of and she shrugged it away. There could be no wings or grooming here, and likely never again. Not after what had almost happened after the rescue in the church. “Water under the bridge.”

He cleared his throat and straightened his clothes self-consciously at the rejection. “Quite. I’ll take this down for you. Goodnight Ms. Ashtoreth.” He didn’t turn when her hand rested on his arm, didn’t breathe as her lips feathered over his cheek.

“Goodnight, angel. See you in the morning.” There were no tears as he slipped out of the room and closed the door after himself, but only because she couldn’t cry, no matter how much she wanted to.


	7. The Caretakers ∞ Warlock's Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock learns his beloved caretakers are being sent away.
> 
> (Formerly one chapter.)

It was an evening just a week before Warlock’s sixth birthday that Nanny Ashtoreth was called into Mr. Dowling’s office to be informed that her services would no longer be needed. “The boy has been going to school full time now, and six is far to old to be coddled by a nanny anymore.”

“As you say, Mr. Dowling. I assume you will be hiring tutors,” said Nenna calmly, having had warning this was coming from Harriet. Plans had been hastily enacted that included a few miracles from both sides so that as soon as Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis departed, Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese would enter into Warlock’s life.

“Oh, yes, of course, every advantage for my boy,” said Mr. Dowling with the confidence of a man who hasn’t a clue what his boy actually wanted let alone needed. “I don’t want any fuss, right? We’ve already found a couple of tutors that come highly recommended. Harriet said something about writing a reference for you-”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Dowling. And fussing isn’t my style. I will be on my way in my due time.” She excused herself and went to find Brother Francis out in the garden. “Had my notice from the _master_. Pompous git.”

“I put in my resignation today,” he told her, feeling a sense of relief. Being Brother Francis was a lot harder than he had expected. He did _not_ feel unconditional love for a great many of the smaller slimier bitey-er noisier critters he’d let linger around the gardens as a lesson for Warlock. “Oh, master Warlock, give us a hug then, oof.” Brother Francis patted the small boy’s back, gently pulling his arms from around his neck so he could breath. “I see you’ve gotten word I’m leaving.”

“Don’t go!”

“‘Fraid I must. I know you’ll miss some of my little friends, but you’ve made quite a few friends of your own in school, haven’t you?” He did a bit of sleight of hand to pull a handkerchief from his own ear, making Warlock laugh and used it to wipe the boy’s face. “People come and go in your life, master Warlock, and it hurts sometimes, but they’re never really gone as long as you remember the good times you had with them.”

“Will you remember me?” Warlock asked, his chin wobbling as more tears threatened.

“I will indeed.” He helped Warlock down off his lap and gave him a few pats on the back. “I can tell you’ve things to say with Nanny, hmm? So I’ll let you get to talking without old Brother Francis in the way. We’ve a few days more yet before we’re gone.” He patted Warlock on the head and left them alone in the garden.

“Can I have a hug, Nanny?”

“Yes, you may, thank you for asking,” she said, opening her arms to him, lifting him up into her lap. “I take it your mother has told you I’m leaving as well.” Warlock nodded and pressed the handkerchief to his eyes, resting his head against Nenna’s shoulder when she rocked him a little. “You’ve grown very big and strong, and one day you will crush your foes beneath your heel.”

“I don’t really want to crush my foes Nanny,” he admitted.

“I know, and that is certainly your choice, Warlock. Life is wonderfully full of choices.” She let him stay in her arms and continued to gently sway back in forth, relieved and sad that she wouldn’t have the weight of his care on her shoulders anymore. Especially when, late at night she admitted to herself that she wasn’t sure he really was the anti-christ, and instead was some poor human child who’d had to endure what had to be the oddest upbringing any therapist would ever get to hear about. On the other hand, there might not be a world in a handful of years, so it wasn’t worth worrying over too much.

“Nanny?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you and Brother Francis married?”

A rush of adrenaline sent a wave of heat through her limbs, follows by a wave of cold fear. She cleared her throat and asked lightly, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, well...” His expression was sheepish. “He has a compass that’s yours and I know you’re best friends because he told me so. After me and Oleg had a fight Brother Francis said you’ve been friends forever, and that sometimes friends fight even if they’re best friends, and that you came and saved him even after you had a big fight and everything. And Daddy says Mommy is his best friend so that means you’re married, right?”

Nenna needed a moment to sort it all out in her mind before she replied. “I... see. He and I are best friends, and we do disagree about things, but that doesn’t make us married. Married is a different kind of friendship only grownups have and me and Brother Francis are far too young to be married.” She smiled when he giggled at the idea of them being young. “But you didn’t answer my question, why did you ask?”

“I had a funny dream.”

“Funny how?”

“I don’t know,” he said, scrunching has face. “But you and Brother Francis were there and you were really happy and holding hands.”

“Well, that’s a nice dream. Friends can hold hands if they like-”

“No, Nanny, this is different!” Warlock insisted in an odd tone of voice that had Nenna looking at him sharply. “You need to hold on and not let go, no matter what!”

“Sometimes he wants me to let go,” Nenna found herself saying. “Why should I keep trying?”

“Lies, foolish lies,” said Warlock, still in that otherworldly voice. He was staring off into the distance but clearly seeing something, or some_when_ else entirely. “They lose their way without you. If you let go, all is lost.”

Nenna found herself staring wordlessly at Warlock, wondering just what had taken hold of him to deliver that cryptic message. “Come back now, Warlock.”

He blinked and shivered a little, and smiled up at her, clearly not remembering the last couple of minutes. “Thank you for the hug, Nanny.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Let’s go get you ready for bed, your mother will be waiting for you.” She slowed down to let him run ahead, needing a few moments alone to wrestle with her thoughts and the uncanny words that seemed seared into her mind. _Lies, foolish lies. If you let go, all is lost. They lose their way without you._


	8. The Tutors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis take their leave, and Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese take their places as Warlock's tutors.

A couple weeks after Warlock’s sixth birthday, on the first day of school, Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis packed up their things, said their final farewells and left the premises for the last time. And shortly after Warlock left for school the two tutors arrived, no personas, just themselves made masculine with matching pseudonyms.

They were given what had been Nanny Ashtoreth’s room to set up as their school room and the angelic Mr. Cortese came well prepared with an actual trunk full of books, some of them even printed from within the last century. In contrast the devilish Mr. Harrison brought just his own flashy laptop and a tablet computer that had come straight from hell.

The angel wrinkled his nose when the demon pulled the tablet out of its box, instantly smelling the reek of brimstone. “What is that?”

“It’s a tablet computer, special order,” frowned the demon, setting it on the table and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Supposed to help fill him with demonic influences when I’m not around.”

“Well, that won’t do.”

“I haven’t got a choice, angel. It’s not like I can take out the demonic parts without getting their attention downstairs.” The demon looked up when the angel came to stand beside him, also staring down at the tablet. “Got any ideas?”

Mr. Cortese frowned and nodded. “I can’t fix it, but I can certainly break it. Will that do?”

Mr. Harrison raised a curious eyebrow but nodded, passing the angel the tablet when he held out his right hand. The moment the golden ring touched it there was a faint buzzing noise and cracks zigzagged across the screen until it was unusable. “I imagine that should do it.”

“Uh, yeah,” said Mr. Harrison, taking the tablet back and dropping it back into its box with a relieved sigh. “So, uh, did Warlock ever say anything odd to you?”

Mr. Cortese frowned and sat down beside the trunk of books to begin unpacking. “Odd how?”

“Uh, just, he says the funniest things sometimes,” said the demon thoughtfully, leaning against the desk. “Uncanny things. Probably just his powers starting to manifest.” Hopefully.

“Oh? He seems normal enough to me, but then I’m not exactly familiar with how young humans are supposed to be,” the angel hedged.

“And you think I am?” Mr. Harrison said, smirking when Mr. Cortese made a face and rolled his eyes. “We’re lucky there were others to tend to him when he was really little.”

“I wonder how he’s doing,” said the angel lowly. “It’s all rather sudden. I do hope he’ll be okay.”

“Nothing we can do about it, angel. Mr. Dowling says no nanny anymore, so.” Mr. Harrison crossed his arms and canted his head as he thought about Warlock and the odd things he had said on earlier occasions. Blurted out the one that had nearly discorporated him from shock when Warlock had discovered they were leaving. “He thought we were married, you know.”

Mr. Cortese bobbled the book he’d just taken from the box, blinking owlishly at Mr. Harrison when he caught it. “He _what_?”

The demon pretended to look at the book, but was watching the angel sidelong, knowing it was only asking for trouble but unable to stop the words. “Married. Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis.”

“Where did he get that idea from?” the angel asked, baffled. “We mostly avoided each other’s company when we weren’t tending to him.” This was not true but the angel _wanted_it to be true so it didn’t really count as a lie. “And if we left the estate together you did the thing.”

The demon smirked and handed him the book. “We have pretty distinct styles, angel and yet, there’s Francis carrying a black compass with a serpent on it. And there’s Nanny with a golden one.”

The angel took the book but set it down to stare. “There had to be more than that.”

“He slept in the room next to mine. He followed you around like a puppy.” The demon shrugged and pushed away from the desk to pace, wishing he’d never brought the subject up. _What was I hoping for? A declaration of some sort? Stupid. _“Who knows. He’ll forget about them soon enough.”

“That is likely,” the angel agreed, feeling sad, but also relieved. It had proven rather difficult to actually unconditionally love the child in the beginning, especially knowing what he embodied. It had grown easier to care about the boy as time had gone on but he had to admit that initially it wasn’t _love_ so much as a sense of obligation and determination. Loving humanity as an abstract was so much simpler than loving a person, especially a sticky shrill demanding child. The angel had seen true unconditional love in action, in Mrs. Dowling towards Warlock, and wondered if that love wouldn’t neutralize Crowley’s efforts even without help. “Will you miss him? When this is over?”

“Huh? Oh, he has his moments,” he evaded. “He’s an assignment, doesn’t do to get attached to assignments.” The demon didn’t think it worth mentioning the very real probability of everything going pear shaped no matter what the two of them did. The damned ineffable plan.

“Yes, there are moments. But I certainly won’t miss the responsibility.” He sighed a little and wondered what was wrong with him, that he couldn’t just love the boy unconditionally. As an angel, a being supposedly _made of love_ it shouldn’t have been as much of a struggle as it turned out to be. “I’ll miss spending time in the garden with you rather more than-” The angel swallowed the rest of his words when the demon turned to pierce him with a look. “The gardens,” he corrected, waving towards the window and the greenery outside. “No one looked twice if you were out there when I was puttering around.”

“Not no one,” Mr. Harrison corrected and Mr. Cortese frowned. “Warlock noticed.”

“Er, yes, I suppose that‘s true.”

“Of course, no one will much notice us out there now either. We’re his tutors, we’re expected to work together.” The demon gave the angel a sidelong look and impulsively said, “And it’s modern times, after all. Maybe they’ll think we’re married too. Just became legal and all that.”

Mr. Cortese felt his face get hot at the idea but then a wave of dismay washed over him, because obviously the demon suspected the true depth of the angel’s feelings for him and was taunting him. The angel wrapped his words in power and deceit and said scoldingly, “Don’t be ridiculous.” Mr. Cortese scowled down at the books he’d pulled from the box, making sure Mr. Harrison couldn’t see his face as he continued to lie because while he could _say_ false things, his expression would surely reveal the terrible truth. “We have absolutely nothing in common. We were forced into proximity by circumstances far beyond our control, and no one who sees us interact will assume we are anything but colleagues.”

Mr. Harrison frowned at the angel’s back, feeling cut to the core, but Warlock’s words still echoed in his mind. _Lies, foolish lies._ “If you say so, angel.”

Something in the demon’s tone had the angel backpedaling. “But we’ve cultured a, a professional respect and, uh, understanding of one another that isn’t to be dismissed. Just because we must be ever vigilant against discovery doesn’t mean we can’t, can’t be social. Right?” He turned then, the books clasped to his chest, not realizing how much his expression revealed when he looked the demon in the eyes.

“Just didn’t expect you to be homophobic, angel,” said Mr. Harrison lightly, turning away but still watching the angel. “I won’t mention it again.”

“I am not!” huffed Mr. Cortese, affronted. He dropped the books on the desk and moved closer to whisper, “We can’t even be seen in each other’s company! What would they do to you if they were to think that something even more, _more_ was going on?” He twisted his hands together to keep himself from reaching out. “There’s always a chance that if people talk, _they_ will hear. We can’t risk it. Maybe the gardener and the nanny can get away with, with that sort of indiscretion, but we as his tutors can not.”

The demon’s smirk held no mirth, but he nodded in understanding. “Point taken.” He moved away then, needing to put space between them. “Where do you want this book?”

Mr. Cortese closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath before answering. “This shelf here should do. It’s a little advanced for a six year old, but he might show an interest, we’ll see. Astronomy is a rather fascinating subject, and the more he comes to love, well.”

“The less he’ll want to destroy,” murmured Mr. Harrison, staring down at the massive book titled, ‘The Extremely Big Book Of Astronomy’ that probably weighed almost as much as Warlock did. “Well, it’s got pretty pictures, he’ll like that.”

“That’s what I thought,” agreed Mr. Cortese, relieved when the demon kept to safer topics as they unpacked the rest of the angel’s books. “We have a few hours yet until he’ll be home. Should we come back later?”

“Nah. We’ve got use of the kitchens and the grounds, yeah?”

“Yes, I do believe we do. Not sure why they decided to not offer us rooms.”

“Probably Mr. Dowling not liking too much competition in his territory.”

“Hmm, yes, I could see that being a reason. At least it’s not far I suppose, and we’re not needed in the mornings or on weekends unless he starts having trouble in class.”

“Here’s hoping he takes to us without having to resort to bribery this time.”

“Amen to that,” said Mr. Cortese, smiling a little in return when the demon smirked at him. “Or we will need the devil’s own luck to teach him anything.”

Mr. Harrison snorted and waved for the angel to lead the way down to the kitchens. “Yeah, right.”

**∞**

When Warlock came home from school, his new tutors were waiting for him in the new classroom, where Mrs. Dowling brought him after he had a snack and told her about his day. “Warlock, honey, these are your new tutors, Mr. Cortese and Mr. Harrison.”

Mr. Cortese smiled in a very friendly way and Mr. Harrison gave a negligent wave of greeting. “Hey.”

“I’ll be down in the den when you’re done, honey, but you should get to know each other, okay?” Mrs. Dowling said encouragingly, giving Warlock a kiss on the head when he nodded and stepped into the room.

“Well, a pleasure to meet you, master Warlock. I’m Mr. Cortese,” said the portly blond, offering his hand. On which glinted a familiar golden ring. Warlock looked up in surprise but shook Mr. Cortese’s hand without saying anything. “And this is Mr. Harrison.”

“Hey kid,” said the demon, holding out his hand. “I’m sssure we’ll get on just fine, hmm?”

Warlock’s eyes were wide at hearing the familiar hiss coming from an unfamiliar voice, but he nodded and shook Mr. Harrison’s hand as well. “What are you going to teach me?”

“Oh, all sorts of things,” said Mr. Cortese, “we’ll sort that out as time goes on. Now I know you’re probably still a little upset about your, er, friends leaving, and that’s okay. Mr. Harrison and I both know what it’s like so you take your time and be sad if you need to, alright?”

Mr. Harrison’s expression was solemn when Warlock looked his way, and he nodded in agreement. “I imagine you’re angry too. It hurts when people leave you for no reason.” He did not see the sharp incredulous look Mr. Cortese gave him, but Warlock sure did.

“But they’re not really gone, are they,” said Warlock, watching as the two familiar but unfamiliar men looked at each other in consternation, clearly not knowing what to say. He let the silence drag on for a moment before continuing. “Brother Francis says that as long as you have the good memories, they’re not really gone.”

“Right!” agreed Mr. Cortese with a breathless laugh, patting Warlock gently on the shoulder. “That’s God’s own truth, my boy, your Brother Francis was right on that account.”

“Yeah, right,” said Mr. Harrison with a sinking feeling. _He knows, somehow, that we’re the same people. Shit._

“You know, how about on Friday, you write to them about your first week of school,” said Mr. Cortese, “we’ll help you of course, and you’ll have lots to tell them. I’m sure they’ll enjoy hearing from you.”

“Okay!” agreed Warlock. They helped him with what little homework he had and walked him down to the den where his mother set him in front of the TV and stepped out to talk with them.

“How is he doing? He’s been very upset about his Nanny and the gardener leaving.”

“He’s taking it very well,” said Mr. Cortese, miracling up a card with the bookstore’s address listed as a forwarding address. “We suggested he write to them, since they left this in the room for us to find. I’m sure they’d love to hear from him.”

Mrs. Dowling, pressed a hand to her lips, her eyes going a little dewy. “Oh, I’m so glad. I tried to tell Thaddeus it was too quick, but he just didn’t want to hear it. Someone was telling him that having a nanny after age five makes children odd and he just wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“People are like that sometimes,” said Mr. Harrison, looking over her shoulder at where Warlock was sitting in front of the television, singing along to the cartoon that was playing. “We’ll do our best for him.”

“You know, I think you will,” she smiled. “See you on Friday.”

“See you then.”

“Good evening, Mrs. Dowling.” They left and as soon as they were in the Bentley, stopped making an effort. “Better than I had hoped,” said Aziraphale.

“Yeah,” agreed Crowley, mind still dwelling on Warlock’s reaction to them. “I think he recognized us.”

“What? No, no, that was just… I’m sure it was nothing,” said Aziraphale, toying with the ring. “Childish hopefulness while missing his old friends, I’m sure the fancy will pass when he gets to know us better.”

“That’s the problem, angel, I think he knows us too well,” said Crowley. “Eh, too late now, he knows or he doesn’t. It’s not like we can make him forget, being the anti-christ.”

“No, I suppose not.” Aziraphale fidgeted a little and when Crowley pulled up in front of the shop, finally asked, “Could I interest you in a drink today?”

“Oh, most definitely, angel,” said Crowley, turning off the car. “Lots of them.”

“Yes, I rather thought so.” Aziraphale led Crowley inside and made a beeline for the back room, using a quick miracle to clean up the worst of the dust before pulling out glasses and a couple bottles of wine, only to put them back and pull out something stronger. “Do you really think he knows?”

“I told you, he’s uncanny.” Crowley accepted the glass but just stared at it instead of drinking.

“But that’s good right? He’s supposed to be uncanny.”

“Yeah, but no, he’s not the right? wrong? the _demonic_ kind of uncanny. He’s the normal kind of uncanny that humans do. Like witches and, whatsit, psychics.” The demon tossed back the drink and held out the glass for the angel to refill.

“Oh, oh, that’s, no, I’m sure it’s fine,” said Aziraphale, refilling both glasses. “It doesn’t bear thinking about, especially not when we’re both sober.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Crowley held up the glass in a toast. “Here’s to the anti-christ,” _whoever he is,_ “may he not destroy the world and us with it.”

Aziraphale tapped their glasses together and said fervently, “Amen.”


End file.
